Awesome Just Can't Describe
by Donrocs1
Summary: Through snow and desert- jungle and hills, Oblivion and Tamriel- the fact of the matter is, the man's insane, he's got a chainsword and an army of robots backed by a disgruntled super soldier, a spider named Tim, and an artist who can't control his hair- Voss is the Champion, the Dragonborn, and the whackjob who wants to burn Cyrodiil- and he's also Nirn's only hope.
1. Chapter 1

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* * *

"...When the world was young, and the fires of the aetherium were still broiling, consuming, and recreating the very stuff of existence- the forge of life that molded the entirety of everything we know, was almost silenced by a war that none in the present day could ever recognize...

When the world was young- it was but a source of power, value, wealth and spiritual omnipresence that attracted the attentions of a million varying entities, that all strove for the same goal, and all took up space that could not be shared by their neighbors.

Beings that came forth from swirling vortexes of immaterial energy, that hailed from realms unimaginable and cruel- swarmed like locusts to a crop field towards a light they all wished to consume.

These powerhouses brought with them tides and tides of followers, and armies of monstrous creatures- thus, the unending war between them raged and raged. The destruction adding to the resource pool that the lavas of creation were churning into mortal life.

The Gods and their rivals viciously tore into each other over the period of millennia- their followers rose and died in the millions, their wealth swelled and plummeted, strength bolstered and waned.

The very stars wept- and they wept until the passage came when the war subsided, and the dust of the constellations faded into the air in settle.

Once vibrant kingdoms of both dark and light- had been wiped off the face of a hundred maps. Cities and temples of the highest orders and guilds were piles of rubble. Great overlords who had been sung in the songs of generations lye dead- armies established as to have no equal- were sprawled in mass graves to mark military defeats.

The Gods were bloodied- as were their dopplegangers- and mending their wounds, dwindling their war into bickering and small squabbles- they watched on- amazed, when life began to grow in plumes about the wake of the chaos.

Like flowers sprouted from the crevices of the aftermath of an empire-swallowing landslide- mortal life became fit to survive the hardships the war between Aedra and Daedra had created. Races formed and ethnicities of those races alongside them- geography and culture scythed these wanting piles of clay into refined factions, guilds, houses and civilizations.

Humankind became industrialized off of its individuality- beasts became strong and cunning off of the things that tried- and very well were completely capable of -destroying them, and had failed.

The world was formed and manipulated by the hands of chance and fate- and was only tampered with by the palms of mortals and the influence of a hundred deities to make what we see today.

Understand- that the sands of time have forgotten little for what we have forsaken.

We forget so much, and we create as much as we destroy.

Whereas the Gods and the Daedra see your kind as nothing more than tools to their own ends- they would never admit their perception through the fog of their guile and conceded pride. Without Man and beast- the Daedra would die, and the Gods would become brittle and powerless.

Only through the survival of mortal life can immortal life prosper- and thus, without immortal life, existence itself, and the ability for mortals to survive- would be extinguished.

It is a symbiotic relationship that no deity would ever vocally admit- but it is there, it will always be there.

Thus- all I can query to you is the one question of-

-What precisely, do you plan on doing with this knowledge I have brought forth to you?"

"-What do I plan?"

"...Yes. Your intentions."

"...My... INTENTIONS..."

"...Yes. D-Does that... Does that not mean anything? I'm, confused."

"Oh no-no! I get it! You just told me the only obvious thing I've ever been able to determine out of my life in this dump you call a 'Prospering World'- you wouldn't want me to use it for something malicious! I understand perfectly!"

"..."

"...What? I have something in my teeth? ...WHAT?!"

"-You're mocking me."

"I said no such thing."

"You're mocking me. You're MOCKING me, you little shit. I just finished going through a two hour lecture on why material existence EXISTS- and you're making jests at me!"

"...Now, hold the phone there, buddy- I said NOTHING, about mocking. Nothing at all!"

"You don't need to..."

"-It's just- For God's sake man! If I knew I'd have to trek the- 'Oh so forlorn dangers of Oblivion and Mundus'- to hear about the friggin' war I already knew about that created reality- I would've sooner signed up for a mal-fuckin' girlscout fundraiser! I would've even dressed up in a giant somoa cookie suit!"

"..."

"-And there you go again- STARING at me. You wang'!"

"You... Are just as clinically insane as the rumors tell. I... I just want you to understand that."

"Yyyyyyep!"

"...Then, do tell me- if learning the origin of the universe was not your goal here- WHAT is the fearsome Champion searching for, in the realms of Oblivion? Mundus of all planes, specifically?"

"-Well it's quite simple, my scaly friend- I'm looking for my posse!"

"Your... WHAT?"

"My posse! C'mon man, you know what a posse is, right?"

"...I'm... I think I-"

"-I have four people I'm searching for, and I think it's a combined effort of my greatest enemies that got them here."

"...Who are your enemies, Champion? It intrigues me to think- given your reputation -that any would be alive, much less having the ability to steal away those you care for."

"-Well let's see... Uhm... Yeah, HERE, in Oblivion- pretty much every single Deadric entity. Every single one."

"...You don't make any sense."

"I stopped trying years ago, my scaly friend."

"And stop addressing me as such! I am Elder Rinnsblud! Master sage! Untold specialist in the ways of space and time! I demand respect, you mental patient!"

"...Rrrriiighhhtt. And, all that ranting and arm flailing converted into my giving a shit somehow... Yes?"

"I. HATE. You."

"Don't worry, I'll send a box of chocolates later, sweety-pie."

"-You're disgusting."

"I'm FILTHY."

"You still don't make sense... What do you mean- 'Every Deadric Entity'?"

"I mean every-fragging-Daedric-ENTITY, you snaggle-toothed, slackjawed duncecap! I pissed them off! They got sick of me not exactly going with the plan they had for me- you know, having Sanguine shove his hand up my ass for me to be his personal sock puppet, kind of thing!"

"...Sanguine tried to get your following?"

"They ALL tried to get me in their pockets! Some of them tried mind-warping me, brain washing me, bribing me, offering me copious amounts of large breasted naked women- copious amounts of naked men! I mean- it's screwy! -Especially the part with the naked guys... UGH... That was- AGH! My memory burns!"

"...So, the Daedric Princes have taken your friends?"

"Yep! Banded together, I know- it's never happened before! I guess I'm just THAT much of a threat, huh?"

"You're telling me the Daedra are collectively working TOGETHER against you?! That's impossible!"

"Nothing's impossible! I could never imagine I'd look this dashing with my tophat on! And just look at me! DASHING!"

"...You, call that protrusion from your helmwear... A 'Top... Hat'?"

"Yeah! Spiffy little shitter, ain't it?"

"Why did I let you in my keep?"

"-Don't think on it too hard, I found it strains lobes."

"...I suppose since I'm this deep into it, I'll ask- who are these 'Friends' you're looking for?"

"Well, there's a few of them, two of them are my best friends- one of them is my BEST best friend- and the other one holds greater significance to me."

"Greater significance?"

"Yep!"

"Ah. You mortals and your 'Love', then..."

"Call it what you'd like, snap-chops- I'm gonna' get her back."

"...Indeed, you are quite persistent- and successful- with your goals, I've read."

"I'm not going to let a bunch of fairy-dust suckers in Oblivion take my friends away. No sir."

"The identities of these 'Friends'?"

"My first best friend- is the Chief."

"-The Chief?"

"The Chief!"

"Who is the 'Chief'?"

"Says he came from some realm that looked like a giant metropolis- I know it's bull crap, but I'd never tell him for the sake of his sanity."

"...What does that even mean?"

"-He's been with me for years now, three I think."

"...RIGHT. The others?"

"Bob!"

"...Bob?"

"Bob, yes! I don't know where he was taken... I don't know where ANY of them have been taken... But I'll know soon enough."

"...These are figments of your imagination, aren't they?"

"Who? Bob and the Chief?"

"Mm."

"-No way! I've known them for three years! They've gone through thick and thin with me!"

"...The story with this 'Bob'?"

"Dude knows how to work his canvases, he does. Says he came from a place filled with lots of happy stuff... I think he was just chewing the wrong twigs, personally."

"...Gods help me... And- the third?"

"Tim!"

"Oh this is ridiculous- you're making these names up!"

"Hey- alligator-constipator- I listened to YOUR shit for two hours! Shut your fat face and let me finish!"

"...You... You little- I'LL-!"

"-Sit your scaly buttocks down before I hack your spleen out with my chainsword and make you suck out the draining bile!"

 ** _VVVVVVVMM_**

"-D-Don't you brandish that mechanical monstrosity at me!"

"Then sit down or be eviscerated by my sheer awesomeness- BITCH!"

"...I hope you weren't expecting HELP after this discussion, in finding these characters..."

"-Oh please, don't give me that garbage. If you don't side with me, I let in the ravaging hordes of Lycanthropic hunters Hircine has tracking me- and I doubt they'll care about your dusty little library-o-knowledge here when they find out you sheltered me."

"...You lead those ruffians HERE?!"

"Help me out, and I'll kill every single one of them! I'll even help lock your door up with magic or something."

"So I have no choice?"

"I didn't say that, tail-mail- you point me in the right direction, I'll take myself and my war away from YOU."

"...You're smart, I'll give you that."

"Thank you. So what's it gonna' be?"

"...I'll opt for your madness over that of Hircine's claws."

"This is going to go swimmingly, trust me!"

"I can't ever TRUST you, but I'll buy it."

"So... You know anything about where I can find my group?"

"Do you know which Princes specifically have taken whom?"

"I think Dagon and Molag Bal have the 'Jailor' title for this kind of thing..."

"-Both of whom have almost succeeded in domination of the natural world several times. They are tough, Champion."

"I'll just have to be tougher. My old-man shoved a spear in Dagon's face a hundred years ago- now it's my turn."

"...Your, father, you mean?"

"Yeah. Crazy fellow. Good guy, I miss him... Ah-IRRELEVENT! Back on track crocodile man- how are you going to help me?"

"Maybe the Bloodfeast has your answers... You know which I speak of?"

"We're in Mundus- as far as I'm concerned, there are a hundred citadels like it."

"You walked right past it when you materialized here."

"...How?"

"Maybe if you hadn't just rampaged past it and examined it for more than three seconds...?"

"...Huh. Never would've guessed."

"I'd assume Hircine's servants haven't brought conflict against the garrison there..."

"-Why is the garrison at Bloodfeast any different from the other armies Dagon has thrown at me?"

"They are guardians of that place- elite. You know why?"

"No, lizard-boy, I don't."

"There's an old portal in that spire, and a Scroll- ancient one, never left the hands of Daedra to be put in those of mortals."

"...Elder Scrolls always have some sort of hitch tied to them... I never used 'em for a reason. They make me chafe."

"-I believe that is your best chance of finding who holds your friends prisoner."

"I assume you're to hide like a wimp in your keep while I go out and smash the bad-guys faces?"

"...With all reasoning here- I haven't fought in hand-to-hand combat in over a thousand years."

"You're just a pansy-ass."

"Hmmph."

"Alright Rinnsblud- I'll bite. If that spire is a trap, or not what you're saying it is- trust me, I WILL survive, and I will come back. And I won't be freakin' happy. Got it?"

"...Just save your friends already, Champion, I'm not sure how much my old heart can take of YOU anymore..."

"Noted."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

It was true what Rinnsblud had told him.

Long ago before the creation of mortal reality- there had been two factions of deities that vied for control of the right to the new source of energy, worship, and power that making the natural world would soon provide.

When the war between Aedra and Daedra came to a close- half of Mundus was in ruins, and a failed super weapon attempt tore a giant crevice in the fabric of existence- shattering the very stuff of reality to create millions upon millions of broiling, magical realms that dabbled the constellations.

Rinnsblud- an eight foot tall, reptilian creature of a species considered the dumbest among Deadric ranks, the Daedroth- was just one small example of Daedra created life that was formed all across Oblivion- and like most of it, he was thousands of years old.

Rinnsblud lived in the plane ruled by a Deadric Prince named Mehrunes Dagon- and it was a magma filled, molten pocked, desolate wasteland that was home to thousands of miles of stone ruins, badlands, volcanoes and lava flows. To make the matters worse- the normally de-populated reputation of the badlands surrounding Dagon's spire fortresses where his armies lived- was no combed by servants of Hircine.

-Of course, since it was Hircine- it was only a matter of time before the Lycanthropes that he had sent picked up on the Champions trail and spread out across the realm.

He had been able to lose many of the Werewolves when he passed through the icy plane of Shard Falls- while single-handedly exterminating the cultist population of mutated freaks worshipping a long dead, cold Deadra.

Needless to point out- the Champion wasn't exactly in the mood for patient negotiations with the things that lived in Oblivion anymore.

And, if one had been in company with him throughout the entirety of his travels- one would understand the lack of tolerance for the Daedric races.

Understand- that the tale he had recited for Rinnsblud, was accurate on all claims.

For the longest of times, the man who had slaughtered his way through monster and man alike across the world, had defeated villain upon villain- had been bogged down in a massive campaign of what would later be quoted as- 'The Quest for Sheer Epicness, Badassery, Gold, Women, and Monster Killing' -that the worlds had ever seen.

The man was dubbed 'Champion'- by entire cities- deities noticed the unstoppable fury of this warrior, and took great interest over the period of several years.

Whilst he created weapons and equipment to build a skillset no warrior could match- the Champion swept aside legions of what was deemed evil and unjust.

His life became dedicated to that of adventure- and yet, so many key things that had had such a positive outlook on his OWN existence, were left out in the stead of overall justice.

The Champion was never referred to as anything but- it was either crowds of grateful people crying out- 'Thank you, Champion!' -or- 'Hail the Champion!', or it was hordes of monsters and villains screaming- 'Die, scum!'.

Meanwhile, all the unbeatable Champion wanted was someone to refer to him for his real, non-titled, not-so-special, normal, boring old name.

"Can't anyone just call me 'Voss'? VOSS. It's so simple! Voss! Voss-Voss! Double-Voss! Something!" He had ranted. "Being the 'Champion' and the 'Heretic who deserves nothing but death' gets really tiresome after the millionth time..."

But of course, the world persisted in its stubborn ways.

The man named Voss, called the Champion- continued on his great quest as the world's most infamous adventurer- and this being 'Infamous' in description, because his vigilantism had basically pissed off every form of authority in every realm he traveled.

One of the largest civilizations to exist in the natural world of the continent, Tamriel- was the Empire, with its metropolitan heartland in the provincial territory of Cyrodiil. The Imperials did a lot of things that Voss didn't exactly see eye-to-eye with.

-Much to the obviousness of 'Going against the man'- as Voss gleefully described it as- the Imperials did not LIKE him in the slightest. In fact, the Imperials friggin' HATED him.

The Imperials had tried multiple times to arrest Voss, to assassinate him, to apply specific laws against his actions- and every time, what wound up happening was the Champion huffing in annoyance, and the result was either several slashed Imperial cadres, or a burning few buildings. Sometimes both.

"The Imperials are the world's loudest, rattle-swinging, violent child that likes to scream and break shit when it doesn't go their way." Voss smiled in describing his long-time nemeses in them.

For three or so years- Voss found the life of adventuring, of finding treasure, exploring forgotten ruins, dark crags in the earth, or the warrens of lost civilizations- and hacking away the monsters and lowlives of the world a good way to spend his days.

He got money for it, saw the sights no one ever dreamed of- and he got to clean the gene-pool by whacking ever single asshole he came across. Good deal, he was fond of it.

-But, the challenge of it all... The excitement, started to whittle away.

Voss would go into an old crypt- swarms of reanimated skeletons and zombies would run at him in wetly-hacking, arm flailing mobs- and he would simply slap them all away with his mechanical chainsword- the powered armor he wore would negate every boney fist or sword that hit him.

There would be a group of vampires that were controlling all the undead- and they wouldn't even finish their monologues about how they were to enslave and drink the blood of the surrounding countryside- before Voss shot them all dead with his trusty energy blaster.

-Here was the other thing- the whackjobs of the world were still trying to fight him with swords and bows, and Voss was running around with a friggin' gun.

Where was the use in a crossbow when you had a rapid-fire laser cannon in your hand?

Yeah, that's really swell- here, let me reload my single shot wooden contraption, that'll hurl a metal bolt that literally has no chance of doing anything to you- while you unload an energy battery into my face! It's perfect!

Adventuring certainly hadn't grown ENTIRELY dim... But it was getting repetitive.

What was left to do except clear out the same dungeons over and over again, when he had all the equipment, all the wealth, and all the experience he needed? Voss had even built himself a robotic army to guard the small state he had created around his fortress home.

Voss, was a ruler of an entire robotic city-state- and he was still dungeon delving for a past time.

After he had saved the world a few times- twice, to be exact -there was really nothing left to do. Voss had started to get bored.

-And now, because he had grown so self confident that there was literally no opposition left to challenge him after all this time- his friends had been taken from him, the same friends that had been badass heroes alongside him for at least HALF of the time he had been ravaging the bad guys.

There was such a story behind all of it, and Voss was looking back, and knit picking the things he could've changed throughout it all.

His friends and the love of his life were in some supernatural mumbo-jumbo jailing ward overlooked by a fearsome Daedric Lord that liked setting prisoners on fire for a past time, somewhere in the depths of the chaotic multi-planar Oblivion.

Long away from the forests and mountains of the world humans called home- Voss was playing hop-scotch across realms filled with things trying to kill him in a existence that did not WANT him here in general.

The days of dungeon delving, robot building, treasure hoarding, and monster slaying were seeming farther and farther away... All of those fights Voss had had, did not have much else at stake besides his own life.

Now, the only four buddies he had were going to die unless he found them.

Elder Rinnsblud- the eight foot tall, reptilian monster elder that lived in the Forsaken Keep of Dagon's realm- the same place he had been banished thousands of years ago by the Gods themselves- was one of many leads that Voss had tried to follow to his companions.

-And again, this lead, just like the ones before him- literally knew NOTHING.

A grinding halt.

-Just like the screaming mechanics that made Voss' ears hurt.

Metallic gears and pulleys screeched and moaned- a giant door made of black onyx plates slid down into the floor with creaking steel, shuffling rock.

Watching the gate entry to the Forsaken Keep lower down, Voss sighed behind his power helmet at the volcanic moans that erupted from the outside world revealed- the black shade of the door receding in place of a hellish red sky crisscrossed with lights of yellow and orange.

The internals of his armor bleeped in hurry- and his breathing momentarily got stuffy as his environmental compensation systems made due with the sulfur-filled air that made the atmosphere of Dagon's realm.

Clearing his throat- Voss turned to view over his shoulder pauldron to see Rinnsblud standing behind him- large, scaly, lumbering arms folded behind his hunched, spined back. His crocodilian head turned to the Champion, and nodded for the open gateway.

"-I'd appreciate you being outside, so I can close the gate and, you know... Bracket myself from the hunters who want us both dead."

"Sending me out into the unforgiving jaws of death and strife, huh?"

"You'll be fine."

"-My dad always did tell me to rub some dirt on it whenever it looked bad... Here I go."

"Remember, elite guardians at Bloodfeast."

"I'll figure it out."

"If you die, don't tell them where I live when they take your soul."

"Know it."

Voss' armor whined with each fold and unfold of the servo joints that made the sides of the kneeplates and elbows- the black colored suit contrasting against the red and hazy backdrop of the hellish plane.

He stepped over the division in the cobbled floor where the gate had gone down into- and immediately heard his armor bleep again, so that the temperature regulation systems would kick in.

The very air wavered and convulsed with bouts of heat- the wet gurgle of magma hummed in the ambience, and the screams of whipping flame. All around the base of the black-stone keep behind him were crags of dark rock and ashy dirt- the keep looked like a half-buried pillar.

A short staircase extended down to the ashy beginnings of the winding path that lead to the rest of Dagon's realm.

Turning around when he reached the last step of the staircase- he heard the gate entry squeaking and rumbling again- Rinnsblud was nowhere to be seen, before the gate slammed upwards, sealing the interior of the Forsaken Keep from his entry once more.

Considering that the elder Daedroth had been forced to deal with him for an entire day, AND that Voss had stifled his temper by pointing a blade at him- he warranted the rude exiling from the structure.

But still- Rinnsblud was of Daedric origin.

So Voss didn't resist the urge to mutter out a quick- 'Dickhead'- before striding down the rest of the stairwell, and kicking up tendrils of dust with bootfalls on the ashy earth.

He reached to his side- and the air crackled with a whirring, bladed weapon being unsheathed from its nano-hilt, and brought to bare at his left grip. Electronics whined, and a scope unfurled from the top of a short-barreled energy blaster he took up in his right gauntlet.

Reaching up to nudge the side of his tophat with the flank of his blaster- Voss cast his helmet's eye slots about to scan the landscape.

The taller crags around him were devoid of life- there was no movement anywhere.

Thus he resumed his long journey, and started walking down the winding pass from the Forsaken Keep's entrance.

-It was too bad that Rinnsblud was what he was, and that he was a malicious old fart who had been undone in the looks department for a thousand years... Voss would've liked him otherwise.

Dagon's realm had a funny habit of being hot, unbearable, dry- and filled with every conniving douchebag the four-armed jackoff Prince could conjure up.

The Champion would have it no other way.

* * *

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* * *

 ** _AWESOME JUST CAN'T DESCRIBE_**

 ** _PART 1- SUNRISE_**

 ** _CHAPTER 1_**

 ** _THE WORLD BEFORE THEN._**

* * *

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One of the things that he had always appreciated when he left the land of sleep and shadow- was the shining beacon of illuminated tendrils that shown forth from large ports to view the world he had grown into and become one with.

When the blackness would recede- mind would clear of internal envisioning- the day would be known and would wake him expediently, and with vigor.

Thus, in addition to bright, golden rays of sunlight that slithered and pierced the creases of a gigantic set of metallic covers- the morning began with a blaring sound, that emanated from a cube-like mechanical device.

 ** _BEEP BEEP_**

 ** _BEEP BEEP_**

-The clock rang and rang- and soon enough, it was silenced when a pale-colored palm flew out and slapped a large, blue button at its top with a grunting thud of impact.

Linen and cloth shuffled- bundles of blankets and sheets were tossed aside, and a pair of legs loosed out from within the bowels of the bed- the feet shuddered when their heels pressed to the chilled carpeting of the floor.

The figure stretched its arms- yawned heavily, and repugnantly began digging fingers into an itch by the left pit.

"...Wha'... Wha' day is-it?" The voice of a man groggily moaned. "-H-Hey, someone get me a... A Roguebot..."

-On cue to his vocal query- another mechanical breech of winding gears and flaring bleeps sounded across a multi-story tall chamber, that was centered with the previously sleeping one's position.

Golden colored panels that acted as a hatch on the ceiling above flicked away to form a dark vent shaft briefly- before a flittering ball of bronze flew out of the shadows and into the morning-lit bed chambers.

The prehensile motions of the flying object were heightened with tiny hisses of engine thrusters- the clicks of a large, single optic that buzzed and adjusted the robot's visual recognition systems to that of the room around it.

Illuminated purple light wavered from three little thrusters that lined the bottom rear of the spherical contraption's chassis- antenna and two tiny, bolt-jointed claws jutted out from under the single 'Eye'.

Zooming closer to the man emerging from his bed- the Roguebot made a confirming bleep in his direction, bobbing in the air eagerly to offer assistance with whatever its creator had hailed for.

"-H-Hey, what day is it?" The sleep still hadn't left his voice. "...It's a week day... I know it..."

" _Today- is Turdas, sir._ " -Came the electronic response from the Roguebot's vox amplifiers. " _Specifically- the 20th of this month, sir. Which is- First Seed, sir._ "

"-Turdas... Huh?"

" _Yes sir._ "

"...Turdas... Turdas... That means something, Roguebot..."

" _Indeed sir. Self-promoted 'Specialty Day'._ "

"-Yep... Yep, it does!" The exhaustion was filtering entirely from Voss' voice by the time he finished saying that.

Jumping to a full stand by the side of the bed- he stretched his arms, heard a varying degree of pops and clicks- held his bunched fists at his hips.

"-It's Turdas! And you boys know what that means," Voss jumped down the multi-stepped elevations holding his bed up several feet from the main carpeting- he wheeled past all the exotic potted plants and candle holders. "Dungeon delving day! Woo!"

 ** _SHHSK_**

-The metal coverings on the two-story tall window that made up the entirety of the northern flank of the bed chambers flipped open- and golden sunlight streamed into the room, forming a scything pillar of shadow that was nurtured by Voss's body in the light's direct path.

Holding his arms at his sides triumphantly- Voss blinked down the last of the sleep trailing his system- swept his gaze about a large, mechanical, and stone masterpiece that sprawled in a city drawn horizon of the window he looked through.

Giant gears were turning- pipes hissing, magical generators thrumming and cables giving off sparks in their connections between large stone and metal buildings.

Voss clapped his hands together- and spoke to the Roguebot that was hovering behind him.

"-Alright, somebody get me my armor locker key-, I'm going out."

" _Right away, sir._ "

"OH, and-"

" _-Yes sir?_ "

"-I'll have a cup of caffeine. Black."

" _Right away, sir._ "

"And fetch me a new pair of underwear!" Voss held his finger aloft. "Make sure they're sprayed with extra Fusrobreeze! Lilac scent!"

" _I'll have to contact the chemical storage department to mix another batch and bottle, sir._ "

"...Oh... W-We're out of Lilac scent?"

" _Freshly, sir. Yesterday was the last bottle._ "

"Yesterday we had a FULL bottle!"

" _Your prerequisite for amount of Fusrobreeze is rather extensive, sir._ "

"...Oh... W-Well then, ask them if they have any Cherry scent."

" _Will do, sir._ "

"-And if that's out, get me a bottle of Pine scent!"

" _Yes sir._ "

"Today- is going to be a GOOD day!"

...Quite a morning, don't you think?

Brought before you is the recollection of an epic journey, of an epic hero- set out to stop an epic villainy from ending his friends and ending the world- and in this given time, the discussion of a man's underwear is the subject of importance.

Voss, throughout the years- has earned the title- 'Champion' -and in the far future, that title would earn him the fight of his life that would reveal things hidden in his very existence, that he did not know were real or possible.

Voss had been born to a man named Voss as well- the fourth- Voss was the fifth in suffix.

Voss senior had been a great hero just like his son was, and would be even more- they called him the 'Hero of Kvatch', and he stopped a great crisis nearly two hundred years ago- a time, that theoretically, wasn't realistic for a normal human being.

Voss senior was reaching nearly one hundred and eighty by the time he passed- and only then, did Voss finish his adulthood, being raised in the very same fortress his father built seventy years ago- a single parent, getting older and older.

"Dad, how come you're like... Ancient?" A younger Voss had asked the old man one day.

"-Ah, some old tom-foolery you needn't worry about," His father responded. "I got involved in some pretty big stuff when I was your age."

His father hadn't been wrong- and it was amazing that after all that time, he had managed to keep those things he had done away from his son, the innocent one in those days- the one protected by the magical fortress that Voss senior had constructed in the province he was convinced would ward off his mortal enemies.

Voss senior had gotten himself a horrendous reputation with the Empire just as his son would- the province of Cyrodiil had him a wanted man, and there were plenty of people across Tamriel that weren't fond of him either.

Voss senior traveled far north- through snow and mountains, to the lands of Nords and Jarls- an icy kingdom, known as the birthplace of Norse, the zenith of the Throat of the World, the place of Jurgan Windcaller's tomb.

Skyrim.

Skyrim and its bickering cities- the war between Imperial annexation and rebellions from Winterhold and Ulfric Stormcloak- Voss senior couldn't see the entire Imperial Legion or the plethora of other militaries he had rivaled with invading that place just to reach him.

It was a gamble- there were some pretty desperate people who wanted him gone, seeing as the old man was just as unstoppable as his son- but Voss senior pulled it off, he raised his boy and died peacefully to his body cremated in the one chamber that his son still had not reentered years later.

The 'Voss Keep'- as he had lovingly termed- was a spanning, metal and stone fortress that towered at the top peak of the mountain range that centered the Rift of Skyrim's territory- a magical spire at its epicenter sported an rotating ring of powered stones at its top, levitating cap where Voss' chambers sat.

An automated miracle of Tamrielic majesty surrounded the tower's base- buildings and districts of robotic automatons that were blueprinted from ancient Dwemer design, held reign as populace and army for the Champion.

Voss had established a small kingdom over the Rift- even renaming the city of Riften, a plain old 'New Riften'- he and his party of companions, his robotic military- were unchallenged.

Voss had spent his life building up the technology that his father left him- he crusaded through Skyrim, and even Cyrodiil and Morrowind searching for wealth, for relics and magical items to bolster his efforts in establishing his state in a self-maintaining stasis.

Over the years- Voss ran into life threatening situation after life threatening situation- he battled undead horrors, villains of great power, Deadric entities, and emissaries of the Gods that sought to stop him.

One day- Voss met his match at the hands of the very people he and his father had sought destruction of for decades.

A cunning Imperial General- some slob named Tullius, managed to use an artifact given to him by a hero of Akatosh sent by the Aedra himself- to freeze Voss, and cart him to Helgen in an attempt to execute him.

Voss' adventure seemed close to an end as the axe of the executioner descended- and hundreds of Imperial soldiers cheered it on- but, on that fateful day, the world shifted and the next great challenge to befall the Champion descended from the sky- literally.

In all his years across Tamriel- dragons had been nothing but rumors to everyone he met, myths and things not real- on the chilly afternoon Tullius almost succeeded in saving the Empire from the insanity driven chaos of Voss- one of these very creatures attacked the town.

A black-scaled nightmare- a beast layered in protective scales, with glowing red eyes and the ability to breath fire, ice, and death energy leveled Helgen and killed every single Imperial defender that sought the Champion's blood.

Voss escaped- cursing the whole way- he broke an Imperial's neck, took his sword, and fought his way to freedom in his underwear- which, would later spawn his constant need for fresh, clean drawers during every morning- seeing as the pair he had escaped Helgen with were drenched in sweat and stunk.

The odor scarred him- as did the sight of the great draconic monster flying away into the backdrop.

Voss would spend another year backtracking through all of Skyrim that he had seen, that he had cleaved every single monster he could find in- but this time, he battled the ancient dragons, beings that hadn't existed in thousands of years.

And at their head- was the very being that had unintentionally saved him from the execution at Helgen.

Alduin.

Alduin, the World Eater, the Doom of Nirn- the she-dragon that sought to consume the natural world to ascend to God-hood.

"You challenge the Dovah? This- 'Champion'- I've heard so much of?" She had scoffed on their second encounter over the mound of a dragon that had been dead for thousands of years, buried- and now reawakened only to be slew again.

The dragon's corpse was sprawled on the ground, bloodied and hacked- Voss stood on his chest, pointing in defiance with a screaming chainsword to Alduin's levitated above, with flapping, onyx wings.

"Blow it out your ear, bitch!" He called. "-I'm here to make myself a new pair of python boots! Come down here so I can skin your ass!"

" _Krastov_ ," She sneered in her race's tongue. "I'll keep your head as a trophy."

"I'm gonna' floss with your spine, baby-cakes!"

"...What are you...?"

"-What? I got something on my face? WHAT?! I- Oh-OH... H-Hey, dragon-bitch, where's all this light coming from?"

Voss fell through the last thing he expected to fall through in the moment- vanishing in a plumage of dust, and thundering earth whilst Alduin- suddenly intimidated- flew off.

He had snapped straight through the dead dragon's skeletal ribcage- and that was what had Voss boggled as he lay in a sprawl in the bones of the draconic beast. It had turned into a skeleton in seconds- the flesh folding away in wisps of light, and turning into glowing piles of molten discorporation.

Voss later found- that he had 'Absorbed' the creature's soul- and that his father apparently, had not told him the entire story with their family bloodline.

Voss started hearing the title- 'Dragonborn'- being thrown around him like cheap candy- and it stuck in most of northern Tamriel.

Apparently- throughout his capers across the continent- Voss had been unaware of a prophecy slowly being unfurled in the snowy peaks of Skyrim amid the already rampant civil war that was tearing the dump apart.

A group of monk-like elders that had powers over this strange energy he had found in himself by complete accident- the Greybeards- lived at the top of Skyrim's largest mountain- the Throat of the World, and they had been warning people for months.

Voss climbed to an ancient fortress, called High Hrothgar- and there he conversed with the quiet old men about his title of Dragonborn, or, in Dovahzuul- 'Dovahkiin'.

"What does that stand for?" He asked the lead of the hooded men.

"-Literally, what we have already told you. Directly translates, to Dragonborn."

"And this means... What?"

"That you are the person to stop the destruction of Nirn- to thwart the Eater of Worlds- to slay Alduin."

"That's the crazy dragon-bitch, right?"

"...Yes. Indeed."

"So then... How the bollacks' do I kill her?"

-If only it had been as simple as Voss thought it would be.

There were ways he had to emulate the magical language of the dragons in his human throat- they were termed 'Shouts' by the Greybeards, and they each replicated draconic abilities meant to hinder or harm foes, or aid the user.

Using these shouts- Voss scoured several olden Nordic ruins- he found stones depicting the language and the subsequent words he needed to find and empower himself with new ones. It took a year of everything from the Empire, the Stormcloaks, the Dark Brotherhood, the Thalmor of the Aldemeri Dominion- and the fearsome Volkihar vampires remerging from their tombs- trying to stop him, as Alduin too dogged him.

The climactic end of Alduin's campaign was wrought in the battle outside the great halls of Sovngarde- and then, that was where Voss was shown a sight of the dragon he had never seen before.

-Today, on this fine Turdas morning- as Voss stepped out of the doorframe for his chambers, entered the mechanical, golden metal entry to his armory stowage- Voss actually felt his memory flitter to that final blow he had dealt, what he had felt.

"You don't understand the motives of any you destroy," Alduin had once challenged him with, on yet ANOTHER of their smaller encounters in the wilderness of Skyrim. "I do this out of necessity."

What had caused Alduin to suddenly just blurt that out to him- to give him this respect, Voss didn't know- but it was weird when he examined how the fight had gone throughout his entire time chasing her, killing her dragons.

"I don't particularly care WHY you're trying to eat the world- I'm not gonna' let you do it." He snapped- he'd even stopped calling her dragon-bitch by the end of the year.

Alduin was grounded when he said this to her- she narrowed her red eyes, scrutinizing the smaller humanoid- his chainsword whirring, coughing slightly from the chips it had ate through in Alduin's hide.

As such, she remained lacking of reaction to the crimson matted, ragged gash that drew down her chest area in a leftwards slash- she stared at him, rolling her jaw, bleeding, silent.

" _Nii los nivokiik, tol daar los vir mu kent kos wah vorey..._ " She mumbled. "You have said this to me each time."

"I'll say it to you every time," Voss answered, monotone, like her- awfully calmed for the two nemeses to be directly in front of each other- he lowered his chainsword by his hip- opposite gauntlet clenching in a fist. "I may not be perfect- and this world may have a lot of people that hate me- but I can't just let you destroy all the innocent people, the innocent creatures in it- it isn't right."

"Sacrifices must be made."

"That's bullshit," Voss scoffed. "You just can't find an alternative solution that you like- so this is the easier and quicker way out of a mess you clearly made."

"You couldn't understand."

"I don't want to, I just want you to back off."

"-'Back off'-, Dovahkiin?"

"Either you leave Nirn, or I have to hunt you until I kill you." He said- stonefaced beneath the gray metal of his helmet- his tophat even looked like it was slanting to the side in exhaustion.

"Doesn't your sense of pride, and everything I have done not drive you to that latter result?"

"..." Pausing, Voss wriggled his fingers on the handle of his chainsword, and huffed. "No."

"... This is something I couldn't understand in turn."

"I never expect you to. I don't get it either."

"This coming from the crazed manling who kills anything that merely crosses him strangely?"

"I don't like bad people," He shrugged. "I'm already this deep- might as well remove the problem."

"I shall regret such an ending."

"...Me too."

"What is this? Dovahkiin?" She hissed- tensing. "What is the angle? The purpose?"

"You expected me saying this, but expected me to know about it?"

" _Nok!_ " She spat. " _Hi los jeyk, ahrk nev ko hah!_ "

"I am confused," He admitted with a grin. "And so are you, by the looks of it."

"Begone!"

"-See you soon, Al'."

" ** _FUS-RO-DAH!_** "

 ** _BMMK_**

-Voss' armor made a terrible clatter- he flew backwards and vanished into the side of a snowy upcrop with a splash of snow, tearing of soil and kicking rocks.

Alduin was still flying off- limping in each flap- when he dug himself out of the snow.

-Voss' shifted as he frowned and held up his arms, put his feet in a spaced out stance- and waited patiently for several hydraulic-made, ball-jointed, golden limbs and claws to begin piecing together a suit of black, bulky, copper-trimmed armor.

An exoskeletal mesh which clicked together from three different parts over his torso and hips- the rounded breastplate was sealed over it, followed by a twin-vented powerpack, humped shoulder pauldrons, ankle and shin plates that were thick.

The gauntlets were clenched together- sparks flew when one of the mechanical limbs drew a sealing drill down each temporary rivet that held the suit in place for the duration of usage- Voss grinned when a cupped set of metal claws descended from above.

In their clasp, a silvery helmet with a snarling vent plate covering the voice amplifier shined in the bluish light of the Dwemer worklights in the chamber's corners. His vision went dark as the helmet covered his head, heat rose, and then mediated when the systems hissed online.

He saw again, clearly- with a translucent display showing his vitals and armor system status blinked in the bottom corner of his vision.

The two eye slots on the helmet glowed once more- a cold shade of blue- and another claw unfurled from the mechanical forging chamber that Voss stood before, and placed a polished, freshly cleaned tophat over the helmet's cranium.

Voss chuckled and nudged that hat with his finger- hearing the gauntlet whine as it worked with his movement.

"I'm all set, boys," He declared proudly. "Today's going a little different than usual."

Stepping off a raised podium of Dwemer metal- the array of robotic arms sprawling from a multi-ringed cube of machinery and storage bays refolded into closed sections by the device's rear plating- the little floating Roguebot that had fetched Voss his new underwear- held up a small, black mirror with a retractable claw unfurling from beneath its rounded chin.

Voss bent lower- hearing his suit hiss and whine lowly- he reached up and wiped what he thought, a speck, from the forehead of his silvery helmet.

"Jolly good!" He declared, and the Roguebot handed the mirror off to a claw reaching out from the forge station. Watching the limb fold back behind him- Voss smiled beneath his helmet at his floating robotic helper. "Have the Headquarters tower send a message to my friends- I want them here, and want them here as soon as possible."

" _Will do, sir._ "

"And someone wake up TIM!" Voss said. "Get the Knightbots to find him- that'll put some effort into his effort!"

" _Sir, we haven't been able to find Mr... Tim._ "

"Well find him! I know he's a bit slippery sometimes but- how hard is it to find a small-dog sized spider in a fort of robots? C'mon guys!"

" _We'll work right on it, sir._ "

"Thank you! Now- I just need my-" Two claws snapped out on either side- one holding a large, mechanical blade of black and copper- the other, a small, handheld, barreled device with a handle and trigger. "-My tools of destruction! Ah! Thank you, gentlemen."

Voss took up his chainsword and blaster in both gauntlets- clenched the handles, and magnetically stowed them in hangs off his suit's belt while the robotic arms slipped back.

"We're set- GREEN LIGHT! Woo!"

" _Mr. Chief, has already sent his confirmation of arrival, sir._ "

"Awesome!"

" _-Ah, yes- and Mr. Bob has sent his confirmation. They are en route, sir._ "

"Oh hell- the tag-team quad of badassery and women stealing is gonna' come down hard on these clowns!" Voss sprinted past the Roguebot so fast- that the diminutive little robot spun clockwise in the air with a confused bleep. "-And- son of a BITCH-! Those rust-buckets down at chemical' gave me LAVENDER scent spray on my drawers! SHIT!"

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	2. Chapter 2

**_AWESOME JUST CAN'T DESCRIBE_**

 ** _CHAPTER 2_**

 ** _THERE WAS A LOT BEFOREHAND._**

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

When the construction plans had been made for the insides of the structure- he had needed the help of a tireless workforce, an endless supply of stone and ore- the schematics for technology that had not existed for thousands of years outside mythology, and in the dark of places best forgotten.

While an army of robotic automations constructed his father's new home- the old man himself specifically began to scour the landscape in search of the ruins belonging to the ancient Dwemer peoples- the Dwarves.

The lifting systems, power coils, energy flux cables, pipelines- that the Dwarves had created in their age of prosperity down Tamriel's northern mountains- before their disappearance- were key to Voss' father if he wanted this fabled hideaway to be built for his child.

Thus, Voss senior returned weekly- sometimes monthly- with schematics, or records, or even full blown examples ripped from networks of circuitry or rows of gigantic pipes and gears- he brought back Dwemer industry piece by hard-earned piece.

The robots that Voss himself still used today copied and mass produced the parts and technologies recovered for them- and by the end of his father's life, the fortress atop the mountain's highest peak was bristled with the skeleton for his son to build off of.

"I've given you the plate, silverware and table," His old man had laughed one time. "Now you gotta' find the meat and potatoes, kid."

His father passed away in his sleep in a chamber that he had built for pleasantry purposes- a little seating area connected to a grand dining room and chimney lit with a bonfire- a room modeled after architecture that Voss senior had seen and been inspired by in the deserts of Hammerfell.

His body was cremated- and Voss was silent, and dead in expression the entire time he watched a group of Arachworker bots properly seal the remains of his sire in a clay, painted urn- Voss placed the urn on the mantle above the great fireplace, before the long dining table over the stone floor.

Voss had spent a good while sitting on the opposite end of the side of the table in one of the wooden chairs- he crossed his arms in his lap, and stared at the urn for hours.

A group of Arachworkers skittered into the room with their metallic, spindly legs- and raised concerns about their new leader's dehydration levels. The buzzing, electronic voices that said this broke his heart- he stood up, took a glass of water one of the robotic creations gave him- downed it in one gulp, and left the chamber.

Voss had the dining hall and his father's favorite seating area sealed and the door locked- he had some of the robots keep hold of the key in an area he didn't know- and for the years that followed, good old dad's relaxation, and final resting, room were locked away.

Voss felt... Saddened, thinking about that room.

-He had so much, a fortress, a staff and military of robots that could never disobey him- and, even with free-thought programmed into their hulls, they never would WANT to disobey him, seeing as his father had made the first of them.

He had a ridiculous amount of wealth, but with little to spend on- he had a collection of historical items, unique items, Deadric artifacts, Aedric artifacts, weapons and talismans that had been in the hands of powerful people across Tamriel.

He had two best friends, and he had Tim- and those were his posse, his group- they were inseparable.

All these blessings, all this 'Bad-assness'- as he would directly quote- and Voss just felt so alone whenever he and his adventuring companions would go their separate ways for a few days. He'd reenter the big golden doors of the fortress- taking the lifts up the varying district levels of the city sprawling down the mountain's faces- and the whole time, he'd wave to greeting Arachworkers, Knightbots, and Dragobots... Voss would start to feel himself stagnating.

It never failed- every time he walked home, the boredom, the uneventful dreariness- knowing that a week or so of staring at walls, eating nice food that he had eaten thousands of times, overlooking the holo-maps of his small state in the Headquarters Spire directly ahead of his towering home- awaited him.

And the only real people he had to talk to, were the robots- which, weren't horrendous- they were programmed by his father, and by extension- HIM, to have independent thought, and some of the things they bickered with each other about, or found interesting, were quite engaging.

-That, and he could also talk to... TIM.

Now, here's the thing one would need to understand upon trying to learn about that inconspicuous, dastardly, intellectual, and soul-sapping stare that this being, this spider, named Tim- held whenever one looked at him.

Tim was the most inactive, yet wildly known member of their group- within its own ranks, of course.

The robots were, as described by one of the Arachworkers- 'Creeped out' -by Tim. The Chief, was utterly bothered by Tim- even BOB, and Bob was the chillest guy you would ever meet, was disturbed, by Tim.

The GREYBEARDS- the oldest of the old, the wrinkly farts that did nothing but gather dust in their used robes- had seen and experienced all the things Tamriel could offer- were put off by that spider.

"He is... Troubling, Dragonborn," One of them mumbled when Voss had gone up to visit- just to say hello after Alduin had been gone for at least a year- Tim never let him leave the fortress grounds by himself- thus, the yellow-detailed, gray spider followed him up the steps of High Hrothgar.

The Greybeards had never met this so called- 'Tim'- before, and when Voss introduced him- the elder's most vocal head, and unspoken speaker- Amkar -had the proud smile slowly drain off his face the longer the seconds drew on of him locking eyes with the beady little black pupils Tim held.

The spider chittered lowly- standing still, and otherwise, totally silent- down by Voss' boots- the Champion felt the awkwardness of the situation- and cast glances between Amkar and his spider.

"-Uhm, you okay, Am'?"

"...Just... Fine- I'm just fine," Amkar recovered with a shocked blink. "So this is... 'Tim'... Is it?"

"That's Tim!" Voss declared- bending over and patting his gauntlet palm on the top of Tim's head with tiny, puffy contacts. Tim didn't budge. "Little trooper, he is."

Later during their time there- Amkar pulled Voss aside-

"-Where did you acquire that... CREATURE, Dragonborn?" He asked worriedly. "Me and my brothers are getting an odd sensation from it. There's something not right."

"Bah, one of you must of farted and his robes fluttered," Voss waved him off. "It's Tim! Your logic no longer applies, my friend."

-This morning, Voss thought back on the suspicions of Amkar and the other Greybeards, and it did at least bring a good question to his concern.

Why WAS Tim so silent? So expressionless?

Spider or not- he was intelligent, and he'd been with Voss for the last few months he had spent chasing Alduin, and until now- that totaled up to two years.

A lot of people that had the misfortune of being disturbed by Tim's presence- had asked where and how the Champion had acquired such a follower- and, the truth was, that Voss hadn't ever really 'Acquired'- Tim, in the stead of just him being there.

For awhile- as he built more and more robots to help him manage the towns in the Rift, New Riften, and the fortress and all these fortifications that he had built throughout the territory to keep the Storm Cloaks and Imperials at bay- he thought a more 'Organic' solution would help to bolster his little shindig.

Voss tried to create some kind of creature- a soldier of flesh and blood, to augment the robotic taskforces he had been assembling with the Assembly Forges in the basement level of the fortress.

Eventually- he thought up, that giant bugs might make good attack beasts.

"-Giant, friggin' bugs!" Voss had announced. "That's it! The perfectly expendable, tough, and unquestioning hounds to loose upon my enemies! It's ingenious!"

...Yeah, no.

No. Not so much.

-See, he spent a whole division's worth of metals, cables, and time having the Arachworkers construct a cloning machine- and it was a literal, hands down, blunt, CLONING machine. Voss wanted to throw a Frostbite spider or something in there- maybe an imported Jungle Queen from Elyswere.

What wound up happening when he turned it on- was a big, catastrophic explosion that catapulted Voss through three walls and three chambers of the extensive basement network- damaged one of the Assembly Forges, and obliterated half of the ceiling in the chamber it had happened in.

Digging himself out from all the rubble- lifting a stunned Arachworker bot off his lap- Voss stared through the mist and dust of the tornado-like remnants of the explosion- saw the burnt, black, ragged remains of the golden clone tank.

It looked like someone put a stick of dynamite in a can of peas, that then blew up- pretty horrible, seeing as that machine had been worth half his yearly earnings delving into dungeons and plundering wealth from the Imperials.

Stepping over on wobbly feet- his armor had taken the brunt of the impact- but he was still dizzy from the fly he'd had- and inexplicably, his tophat had stayed perfectly centered, the cranium of his helmet.

Crawling out of the blackened tank was a small, spindly creature that was colored gray, with yellow details and markings across its legs, body and head. Four, beady, black eyes centered a tiny, cute little face with two tiny fangs.

There he stood, in all his obscene glory- the little magically created arachnid, that would follow Voss around for the next two years.

He named him Tim.

And so, Tim persisted in the humor of Voss and the brightening of his day- and of course, the nightmares of half the people who locked eyes with him. And all he did throughout those years was stare into space, vacantly- and make that disturbing little chittering sound with his fangs.

Fully armored now- hat adorned, underwear smelling an awful old-lady-like scent of lavender- Voss strolled down the halls of the magical fortress he called home- down warrens lined with pedestals holding the taxidermied corpses of all sorts of things he had ordered carted back to his home after he slew them.

Shadowy humanoid figures lit by the growing morning light forming pillars from a net of skylights flowing down the hall's ceiling went by in singles and pairs atop white, marble pedestals. Voss grinned at each one with each pass.

He stopped, eventually- with his boot catching on the rug-floor- by the stood body of a brown bear- the beast posed with its front legs raised, spread apart, mouth gaping in a silent, eternal roar- the animal was bulky, with layers of brown fur cascading like a waterfall down its fatty limbs and torso.

He didn't remember specifically how he had killed this one- after all, he'd killed so many, he lost count.

Bears were annoying, anyhow.

Giggling like a preschool student- he leaned forwards and jabbed his fist into the groin area of the creature with a dusty **_PMF_** -that kicked up a small florescence of dust in a tiny cloud by his gauntlet knuckles- made the taxidermied bear rattle slightly on the pedestal.

"Ha! NUTSHOT!" Voss proclaimed, and started laughing maniacally the rest of the walk down the hall.

A pair of towering Knightbots- modified schematic copies of Dwarven Centurions- the main muscle and backbone of his robotic army- had been standing side by side as sentries by the opposite wall. Their golden, mechanical heads followed their insane master as he vanished down the hall- one of them turned to the other, and a screeching report of metal sounded, as he raised his ball-joint shoulders in a shrug.

The other turned back to the bear on the pedestal ahead of them- and made a small jabbing motion with the blade of his arm-built, nano-hilted, energized axe blade towards the creature.

" ** _WHAT ARE YOU DOING?_** " His companion drawled out mechanically.

" ** _NUTSHOT._** "

" ** _OH. WHY?_** "

" ** _BECAUSE THE COMMANDER DID IT._** "

" ** _THAT MAKES IT DOABLE?_** "

" ** _IT MAKES IT- 'COOL'- I SAID THAT RIGHT, RIGHT?_** "

" ** _INDEED. COOL._** "

Turning around with thundering footfalls- the first Knightbot faced one of the many pedestals that rowed behind their guard post- and it held the stilled form of a human skeleton, holding a Nordic bow and arrow, poised to resemble a reanimated horror readying to shoot.

The robot- with too much enthusiasm- jabbed the blade of his axe forwards at the former reanimated corpse- and instead of it rattling in tiny shift on its pedestal- the skeleton was snapped clean in half from the pelvis up.

 ** _-CLAK_**

 ** _clcklcklcklcklkcllckl..._** -And then the bones clattered and spilled all over the floor, bounced off the wall, and lay there- sadly, waiting for some poor slob to clean them up.

The Knightbot examined the mess it had made with its vision receptors.

" ** _YOU'RE IN TROUBLE._** " His companion said.

" ** _BUT... NUTSHOT._** "

" ** _COMMANDER'S GOING TO GIVE YOU A NUTSHOT, ALRIGHT._** "

" ** _BUT WE DON'T HAVE NUTS. NOT THOSE KINDS._** "

" ** _...WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO AND SAY THAT?_** "

" ** _SORRY._** "

" ** _WE DISCUSSED THIS CRAP AT THE EMPLOYEE SEMINAR LAST WEEK, AND AT THE PIPE-DREAM FORTRESS PICNIC._** "

" ** _I'M SORRY._** "

" ** _YOU KNOW WHAT- YOU KNOW WHAT- JUST-JUST LET IT GO, LET IT GO, MAN._** "

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

Taking the lift system down from the top floors of the tower was always a boring event- it was a lot of watching one blue-lit lantern after the other ascend in a singular pillar as the lift platform went down, the four gears that kept it anchored on the quad rails on each corner turning with creaks.

Steam hissed from the gear pulleys, and Voss found himself bouncing in place as he waited for the lift to finish bringing him down to the base of his tower. The speed was absolutely deplorable- and, he had wanted to make it faster- but, that had ended horribly when he had actually tried it.

Later explained by Chief- and, ironically the same man coming to the fortress now- it had sounded like one of Voss' aircruisers had accelerated to ramming speed in a straight line for the earth- and then like a train had hit a brick wall and flipped OVER the wall, before crashing through a fine-china store.

-Again, INEXPLICABLY, Voss' tophat remained on his helm's cranium- unscathed, unmoved. That hat was awesome- and so was that crash, Voss had never been able to control such a brilliant burst of fire in his own home like THAT before.

Don't get him wrong- there were some pretty fantastic explosions and mushroom clouds that had happened in the halls of the Voss Keep- but, that one was just memorable.

Smiling at the thought- Voss started whistling to himself- the tune metallically tinged from the amplifiers in his helmet- the shaft of blackness, lit only by the lanterns going in a spine ahead of and behind the descent rails of the lift- grew a bit brighter as he got to the bottom.

A golden set of doors opened outwards as the lift hissed another flux of steam- the gears whined, and the stone plat shifted to a halt. The lit stairwell that lead to the ground floors of the fortress were brightened with the ambience of roaring water and green light- Voss started to step off the plat.

-Then he noticed the little, squat, yellow and gray sprawl on the flooring of the stairwell's top.

"TIM!" Voss cried, leaping off the plat, rumbling the ground- he ran out of the doorframe, right up to the little spider that was sitting at the top step- perhaps a bit menacingly -and scooped him up with a snatching, underhand motion. "There you are!"

Other than the small chittering noise the little freak constantly made- Tim actually gave off a squeak reminiscent of a dog's chew-toy when he was compressed in such a manner against Voss' chestplate.

Uncurling his arms and letting the spider drop from his grip- Tim landed perfectly on all eight legs, stood higher, shook himself with a few jerks- and resumed his eternal expressionless-ness.

"We're having company today, Tim," Voss explained- pointing for the stairwell. "Our comrades come from afar- and today, we shall smite-ith', douchebag'ith's!"

Tim just chittered in acknowledgement.

Stepping around the spider- Voss started down the stairs with repeated thuds from each bootfall- and the spider made exoskeletal shifts and clicks with his fangs, as he followed- surmounting each step expertly with his eight legs, and soundlessly- don't forget the menacing quietness of the spider.

Glancing up at the complete dragon skeleton hung via chains down the several-story high ceiling of the stairwell- Voss looked back down at Tim.

"So what do you think? Some time since we've been west, or east- hey, maybe we could go ghost hunting around Falkreath! Place is, like- SUPER haunted, eh?"

Tim chittered again.

"-Well what about the Reach? I don't think Markarth stopped burning yet... Maybe we could have a night-light-show picnic!"

Tim chittered secondly.

"OH! What about the ruins of Solitude?! -I think some radioactive monster spawned from the magma! We could reenact a horror movie or something!"

Tim chittered, THIRDLY.

"...What do mean about the magma? The Dovahray, remember? Fuckers at Solitude had it coming- bunch of Imperial boot-licking, mudcrab-molesting, sock-sucking horse rectums!"

Tim was silent.

"Oh, don't gimme' that! Anger management classes are as good as used feminine-products!"

Tim made a hissing sound.

"I KNOW it's none of your business, OR mine, sheesh'..."

Man and spider reached the bottom lip of the stairwell- and the moisture sensors in Voss' helmet bleeped lightly in his hearing, from the mist being shown from a cylindrical port, jutting from the ceiling of stone covered in oak lattice.

A waterfall fell from the port, which was overgrown with tropical ferns and vines that draped, and partially connected with a bowl-shaped, fountain funnel in the center of the ground floor foyer, the water was filtered in a great looping pipe from fall, to drain.

Voss went right- because there were three ways to go- around the fountain, to the deeper portions of the fort straight ahead- left for the kitchen and library- or right, for the blacksmithing chamber and entrance foyer.

Branching from the entry lobby at the front gates to the fortress's ground floor- there was a huge chamber that Voss had had constructed in the image of buildings he had seen in the deserts of Hammerfell- just like dad had with his now locked away seating room.

As they passed the stone hall leading to the blacksmithing chambers- Voss got a whiff of the machinery in there, and suddenly felt an urge to go in and just start... Working, on something, anything.

It was one of the things he had found struck his fancy- just spending a few hours in the quiet, echoing hum of the air filters, the magma pipes that supplied his forges with the best concoctions for metal working- hitting stuff with a mallet, dipping it in water- just focusing on the blade, nothing else.

The chainsword and blaster he used all the time had come from there- they were longest projects, his BEST projects.

Voss nodded at the untraveled way- onyx walls and a gray tiled floor lit by occasional illumination globes chiseled into the ceiling.

"What do you think? Maybe I should make something in there again."

Tim chittered.

"You're right- I haven't been in there for a good while... Huh."

A pair of golden doors swung aside- the halls became not onyx past this frame- but log constructed, to give the feeling of a cabin, or some kind of wooden overstructure.

Lining the black tiled floor were items that Voss had recovered after venturing to certain places- chests of Deadric, Elven, and Dwarven origin- a coffin from a tomb in Hammerfell- burial urns of five different cultures and peoples.

Tim crawled over to a catacomb's found shelf and prodded a drapery of papyrus cloth that was laid over the interior lower shelving.

"Knock that off, you whack." Voss snapped- halfway down the amber hued hall.

The beginning of the fortress really wasn't the same as it had been when he had been younger- his father was more of a- 'All Robotics'- kind of guy- so the walls, where actually the metal and wiring understructures of what they were now- like someone built a house and left all the innards exposed outside plaster and paper.

He used to walk down here at night when his father was still alive- he had to be no more than ten, or eleven- he'd light a single candle, or one of the Dwemer lanterns- and he'd walk down the hall watching the amber or blue light playing off a hundred, golden reflective surfaces at once.

It was like traversing a tunnel of liquid bronze- a really neat little sight for him.

But once he'd gotten older- and dad died- the more he saw every day that reminded him of the past, the more he wanted to change it. He built over all the golden understructure of the upper and middle floors- even the basement level, outside the Assembly Forge chambers were pretty much the same.

The final doors before the small lobby flung open- a rectangular chamber was here, at the cap of the hall- black tiled floor, stone and logged walls and ceiling- there were special pedestals here that contained magical holographic models of some of the robots he and his father had made.

Holograms colored purple shown slowly rotating forms of Arachworkers, Dragobots, Knightbots, Roguebots and Ballistabots- they were all here. Two of these, were on either side a massive set of golden doors- they were locked, and that was because they lead to the courtyard right outside his fort.

That court was linked to a bridge that extended over the northern districts of the robotic facilities surrounding the fortress- to the gates of his robotic Headquarters Spire- where he planned everything tactically, and domestically for his holding.

Finding a thought about something he had forgotten to whip up as provincial action- he paused by the doors and scratched under the chin of his helmet with tiny creaks.

Tim hassled him with a chitter- and the spider butted his armored calf with a hollow clinking of disturbance.

Looking down- Voss smiled at Tim, and turned for the right, instead of ahead.

"-Good to see this chamber getting some use again," He stated to the air- well, half to the air, half to Tim. "One of my favorite rooms."

The tan colored stairs descended from a second floor of palace-styled walls and windows that opened to blackness- a duplicate, of an ancient Redguard palace that had absolutely become stuck in Voss' mind after he had traversed it.

A reflective floor of tan-colored tiles drew ahead on the lower level- centered with a rectangular, red rug underneath a stone dining table ringed with seats made of pure brass. (Voss would never admit it, but, he might've... ACQUIRED, those chairs from the Deadric Prince- Sheogorath -in an unruly raid of his palace in the Shivering Isles- but, he digressed.)

Hopping down the stairs with the excitement of a child- Voss scrambled up to the side of the table- crossing several feet of open flooring between- so fast, that Tim had just finished getting down the last step.

"Here comes the new installations from last time," Voss said over his shoulder as the spider hung out behind his boots. "Check THIS out."

He held his gauntlets up- and snapped both armored fingers in each one.

 ** _clk_**

-Light erupted from the opposite side of the chamber- lighting the whole place amber, with a hint of blue- a great bonfire nearly two stories tall almost touched the high ceiling of the great room when its burst from a large fountain-like structure now revealed by the illumination.

A large, holographic pedestal projector was revealed inside the flames themselves- and it activated with a whine of magical energies- and the image of a purple, translucent, Ballistabot materialized in a slowly rotating depicting above the roaring flames.

With the now comparatively small table before it- it just looked... AWESOME, to Voss, awesome indeed.

"Ha-HA! Check it out!" Voss held up his hands- turning back to the spider. "You know how long it took me to- ... Oh, God-damn it, Tim."

The spider was on his back- legs curled over his underbelly- startled by the light and flames- he now played dead.

"I can't even get a 'That's neat, Voss, good job, Voss'?"

...Nothin'.

"Aw, screw you too!" Voss nudged the spider with his boot- seeing the leg twitch under the touch of his footware's toe. "Unbelievable, a farce, I tell you!"

Turning to face the stairway they had taken to get down here- he reached up with one of his gauntlets- pushed the finger on a small rune on the side of his helmet's voice amplifier. There was a bleep, and static whispering.

"Roguebot? You hearing me alright?"

" _Splendidly, sir. The new communications systems work excellently, sir._ "

"-Cool shit, ain't it?"

" _Yes sir... Very, ehm... COOL, shit. Yes._ "

"Are the boys here yet?"

" _I believe a, Mr. Chief, is in the courtyard now, sir._ "

"Aww-ha! YO! This, right here- is gonna' be SICK! Tell him to come in! -And- TIM! You used dishrag! Get the hell up!"

" _Ah, yes- and here is a, Mr. Bob._ "

"Woo!"

-An echoing report of discoupled magnetic locks rebounded from upstairs, into the council chamber- the creak of Dwarven metal, the turning of hydro-gears that supported the massive weight of the front doors.

Light cascaded in the relatively gloomy lobby at the top of the stairs- Voss jogged to the stairwell's last step, and stood there in anticipation.

Two shadows- bulky, armored humanoids stood against the brightness from the beautiful day outside- they at first, faced the door that lead deeper to the fortress- but then they turned, and were now gathering from under the archway that was at the stairs top.

Servo-joints shifted- armor creaked, and the stairs were utilized with heavy thuds of boots when the first man of two started down them. The one at the top, raised his gauntlet in a salute to his helm's forehead, and Voss returned it eagerly.

"Gentlemen," He said, holding his arm back to the new holographic/fire presentation the meeting chamber had. "What do think?"

The man at the top of the stairs went to respond- but was cut off by the very calm, yet joyful tinged voice of the one that had already reached a few inches from Voss' stance.

With a smile to pierce Oblivion itself- facial hair rounded on his expression, and a head of hair no wig in Tamriel could shake a stick at- he opened his arms, and spoke.

"Hi, I'm certainly glad you could join me today."

"-Just, before anything else, does he know how to greet anyone with, uhm... Different words?" Came the second interjection from the armored hulk from at the stairs top.

Voss had just went to shake hands with the first- but, the man turned and regarded what his fellow had commented.

"Painters are expected to be a little different." He shrugged.

"BOB ROSS! YO! MY BROTHER!" Voss embraced the armored painter so hard and forcefully- that even though he was wearing the same suit of armor type, Bob was lifted clean off the floor with his boots dangling in the air.

Voss put the man down after a second with a rumbling of steel- and cuffed his shoulder with a bunched fist.

"How are ya, man?"

"Alright."

Finishing the last few steps down- Bob stood behind the Champion as the second and last member of their group- closed distance, looked down from his near eight-feet in height, and offered a gauntlet for Voss to shake.

"Sierra 117, reporting for duty, sir."

"MASTER CHIEF! Holy bollacks! Good to see ya'!"

"Hugging is strictly prohibited, sir."

"-Oh, well, then... I-I didn't WANT to hug you in the first place!" Voss snapped, un-tethering his hand from the Chief's.

Garbed in black armor, more charcoal-colored than Voss'- flames were painted on the shoulder pauldrons and breastplate- the helmet for the Chief was completely out of place with the rest of the suit- seeing as, it was the same helmet he had met the Champion in.

A green-colored helm, with a bronze bubble-like visor contrasted with the suit Voss had provided him.

And even Bob, he wore armor of white- it had been silver, but, he wanted it white- and so, Voss gave him white armor. There they were.

"Master Chief, Bob, Tim," Voss gestured for the table as the spider worked his way from where he had been sprawled motionlessly on the floor. "Let's chat! We'll catch up, then, we'll go out and do what we do best!"

"Blow stuff up?" Master Chief asked.

"Becoming expert brush washers?" Bob grinned.

"Kicking ass! Of course," Voss answered. "With blowing stuff up, and washing brushes on the side."

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	3. Chapter 3

**_AWESOME JUST CAN'T DESCRIBE_**

 ** _CHAPTER 3_**

 ** _UNSTOPPABLE._**

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

People knew who Voss was, plain and simple. Whether that meant raised arms followed by cheers, or hands flying over children's eyes with families locking themselves inside their own farmhouses- was meant to be seen differently each time.

There were plenty of people who saw Voss as a hero- a good thing, albeit- though particularly, those people didn't exactly have a big say militarily or even economically, a lot of folk who thought he was a decent guy were farmers, business owners, 'Civilians' if you wanted to generalize it.

But even with the people who didn't mind him- Voss had a very select few allies that he could actually rely on in a difficult or life threatening situation- and he had even fewer that would physically travel to reach him should he have needed it.

Nobody wanted to follow around the guy who lived for killing, or for looting cursed, dark places- or who had a bad reputation with almost every major power on the continent- and some major powers that didn't even exist in the mortal world.

There were a lot MORE, of things and people, that wanted to kill Voss- and that was because he didn't follow the natural order of things, the status quo.

He didn't accept that there were divine beings that had absolute power over him, he didn't accept that there were nations and governments that made the rules, he didn't accept that some people might not exactly agree with his way of doing things.

-Of course, with the crowds that he dealt with- that meant there were entire armies that had him on bounty lists- because the unbelievable thing was, the insanity of it all, was that Voss was perfectly willing to tell Gods and Daedric lords, and mortal lords, to kiss his foot, and he actually made them do it.

See that's where this branches off from the usual 'Rebellious' spirit that so many people wished they had, and some even thought they had.

Voss had gone against all these things that shouldn't have allowed him to continue his everyday life- and each and every one of them he beat in some way shape or form. It was bad enough that the Daedric Princes had stopped actively trying to kill him- as had the Gods- ironically, it was mortal people who were still stupid enough to fight him all the time.

Voss had slashed his way through almost every square inch of Tamriel- he'd been through deserts, tundras, jungles, forests, grasses, open expanses- you name it, Voss had been through it, and he'd gone on some kind of delirious adventure through it.

Like he had stated so many times for least of all himself- life was getting boring. He was running out of things to hack, things to shoot, things to LOOT, things to explore... The world was endless, and Voss felt he was nearing the end that shouldn't have been possible to reach.

So that was where his allies, the few they were- came into play.

Voss kind of saw them as his means of attaining new, great things to do- after all, they didn't spend as much time in his little fife as he did, they didn't LIVE here- and they traveled around with a more 'Common Man'- status then he ever could.

Bob especially- the guy was a bit of a loon, but he was an artist- he just walked around painting, not giving a care about anything but- he had been wandering Skyrim for heaven knew how long- and where Voss had a reputation across Tamriel and Nirn as a whole- Bob was seen as a great guy locally across the Nordic population.

Bob painted in public squares, he sold his work all over the place, and he did a few slicing-n-dicing when it was needed- but before Voss armed and equipped him, Bob hadn't been much of a fighter.

In fact, he was good enough at his craft- that a few times in the past, especially in Solitude before Voss virtually wiped it off the face of the map with the fearsome deathray installation he sported- he had raided places in the city, only to find some of the valuables he gathered were Bob's paintings.

"THAT'S RIGHT! RUN!" -Voss tore a quivering Imperial soldier from the screaming teeth of his sword- blood and sinews of ragged crimson were flying everywhere, and there was a cluster of comrades to the dying man that ran away in all directions.

The Imperials had a habit of scattering whenever Voss made it abundantly clear that their numbers weren't going to let them win- so all these guys were no different- hollering like maidens caught with their blouses up, vanishing throughout the Blue Palace in a withdrawing mess.

"Yeah, take it all-!" Voss gave the body a kick for good measure- **_PLK!_** -a rib cracked. "-Fuck-heads!"

"Sir, we hit the jackpot." Master Chief rounded a corner from a room nearby- his arms were bundled, and a small pile of gold coins in pouches, and some worthwhile items were in a heap.

Voss glanced over his pauldron- actively indignant to his maniacal ways being interrupted -he shut his mouth when he saw Master Chief's arms bulging with a whole pile of shiny stuff. Voss liked shiny stuff.

"WOO! Valuables!"

"I performed an area sweep while you were-" **_SKM! shmshm..._** -Clinking of metal, the rush of clattering coins and shifting of Power Armor- Voss snatched the whole pile from his friend, and just like that the entire hill of goods vanished.

It was all gone- Chief's arms were still curling to support the now absent hoard. Unexplainably had this happened.

"...-While you were neutralizing hostiles... Sir." He put his arms down, rolling his shoulders whilst Voss nodded excitedly.

"Good work, Chief! Now we can buy an entire cadre's worth of fresh panty-ho's!"

"Fresh panty-ho's, sir?"

"We can flick them at travelers! It'll be awesome!"

"...Yes sir."

"Now," Voss aimed his pistol ahead without really looking- he fired once- **_CLK!_** -the casing bounced on the floor, and it took the Master Chief a moment to realize someone was screaming from down a nearby hall. "What do you say we finish our little pillage with a sweep through the Jarl's personal belongings?"

"...Whatever you say, sir."

"WE PRESS FORWARDS! CHARGE!"

-Not even three seconds later, there was a terrible crash of snapping wood- **_CRSSKK!_** -the ornate, reddish doors to the Jarl of Solitude's bedchambers broke clean off their hinges, rattled the white tiled floor, and made way for a pair of mangled corpses- more Imperial victims to Voss' unquenchable rage of randomness and strife.

The dead soldiers sprawled out with all the debris, and the Champion of Nirn- (there were many who would argue falsity to this title, obviously) -stomped triumphantly into the room ahead, chainsword screaming, laughter bouncing off the walls.

"HONEY-! I'm, HOME!" Voss announced. "-Stay down, sweet cheeks! We'll just abscond with all your worldly possessions and be on our way!"

"Sir, protocol dictates strict and precise discrepancy with assaults." Master Chief voiced from behind him- his own boots sifting through the mess Voss had produced in the foyer hall of the chamber.

"What are you saying, Chief?" Voss raised a brow, lowered his weapons, and was brought into a bedroom with everything he expected- a lavish bed, bookshelves filled with reading material that suited old ladies and sociopathic stay-at-home mothers, chests and dressers- but... no Jarl.

Where the hell was the Jarl?

"Aw-MAN! She's hiding again!" Voss snapped, throwing his arms down and rolling his eyes at the ceiling- he tipped his head back enough that the tophat should've slid off his helmet -it of course, did not budge. "Your thoughts before, Chief?"

"Why don't you put this woman out of her misery and shoot her?"

"AWFULLY merciless of you, Chief!" Voss kicked open the wardrobe by the bed- the door snapped off and clattered onto the floor, all the expensive clothing inside fluttered in the breeze it created. "I like it! But where would be the fun in THAT?"

"You're not the kind of officer to take prisoners, sir." Chief reminded, standing idle in the middle of the room- watching emotionlessly beneath his Mark V helmet as Voss retracted from the darkened interior of the wardrobe, with a freshly cleaned blouse folded over his tophat and the face of his headgear.

"-SPACE! The final frontier!" Voss ranted- leaping onto the Jarl's bed, where the combined weight of he, and the suit of Power Armor- caused the entire frame, sheets, sack and all, to indent in a hideous snap- **_CLKK!_** -that cracked off all the bed's feet, and slammed its underside to the floor. "I'm swimming, Chief!"

"...Sir?" The Spartan sighed, now watching the ajar window on the righthand side of the room- ignoring the flinging tornado of bedsheets and blankets Voss hurled to and fro from trying, and failing, to make a snow-angel in the contents of the bed.

"What's that, Chief?"

"Sir, the Jarl's obviously fled."

"Let's raid the kitchen next! We'll see if they have any Eider Cheese! I LOVE that stuff!"

"Sir?"

"Oh for- WHAAAATTT?!" Voss whined, sitting upright in the Jarl's thoroughly ruined bedding material. "-Quit being a fun sucker!"

"Sir, we've been betrayed."

"What do you mean, Chief?"

"Look." He nodded to the dresser on the other side of the wrecked mattress.

Voss cocked his head, scooted atop the mess he'd made to glance over his shoulder pauldron- and sitting atop the piece of furniture there, was... a... painting...

That style looked... awfully... familiar...

"-INDEED that style looks familiar!" Voss ranted to the ceiling. "-HOLY SHIT BALLS!"

The Champion scrambled to his heels- tripped over the sheets, and snatched up the painting from the dresser's top, sitting on the floor, and holding it beneath his scrutinizing gaze.

"I knew that artist was trouble, sir." Chief stated as Voss read the tiny red signature on the bottom left corner- it was a painting of a farmfield, with a big old, brown, wooden barn in the center. "He's selling to the enemy."

"...That... That... MANIAC!" Voss cried suddenly. "-It's-! IT'S-!"

"It's terrible, sir, I know-"

"IT'S FRIKKIN' INGENIOUS! Ha! Look at that! Ole' Bob's a stinker ain't he?"

"...Sir?"

"Sell them, the stuff that we'll STEAL later! He's brilliant! I have to take some lessons from this guy! It's the afro, Chief! Extra brain power!"

"...Yes sir, if you say so, sir."

-Oh, there was never any question in Voss' addled mind that Chief and Bob experienced this sort of... Rivalry, if you will.

The two had never seen eye to eye, throughout their entire travels in Skyrim, Hammerfell, Cyrodiil, Oblivion- it just never worked out, there was something that Master Chief could just not cope with in Bob's artistic style... Not that Voss, CARED, or anything, but... It was still annoying that they were always bickering.

That incident? In the Blue Palace? One of hundreds. Voss and his trio of destruction had ransacked Solitude until Voss utterly became bored of doing it, and decided to nail the city with a molten ion blast from the 'Dovaray' gun that was built into the base of the mountain he had established his empire from.

Voss had decimated the Imperial Army, he had wiped out the Stormcloaks, defeated Alduin the World Eater, had beaten almost every Daedric Prince in almost every kind of evil plot you could think of, he'd beaten the Aedra, the Vampires, everything!

And now, he was... running out of things to do.

Skyrim was still an amazing, frozen over place, and there were plenty of people who were considered 'Killing Material' by Voss' standards to hunt down and slash, and there were plenty of monsters... but... It was still Skyrim, the ice cube, the dump where no one could speak English properly with their stupid accents.

Voss just didn't have any incentive anymore, he'd delved all there was to delve, explored every peak and inch of forest, he'd pretty much wiped out almost every faction and power broker that had existed here, he had built a KINGDOM, here, where the Rift used to be...

He was bored with his life. His insanity induced, partially-maybe schizophrenia influenced, badass, wealth hoarding, villain slaying life.

Where had the adventure gone?

"What do you think, boys? Maybe we should try and dig a hole to China in the plains around Whiterun!"

" _China is not a designated location known to exist on Tamriel, sir._ " The Roguebot assistant chimed from overhead.

"Who asked you?!" Voss barked.

"Sir, you called me here without a specific objective in mind?" Master Chief sighed, leaning the chin of his Mark V helm onto a bunched fist and elbow on the grand table.

"Peddling it to death..." Bob shook his head- still smiling -folded his gauntlets in his lap patiently.

Tim just chittered on the floor by Voss' throne at the head of the table.

"Shut up, Tim..." Voss muttered in defeat. "-Alright, alright, guys, YES, I don't have anything planned for today, okay? I was hoping we could, you know... Figure something out! Like old times!"

"...Old times, sir?" Chief sounded like he was about to fall asleep.

"Midnight black, it's a very duuuulll... color." Bob said.

"Holy Capsized Boats, this story is starting out so shitty!" Voss snapped. "C'mon, author! THINK! Think of something original! This isn't just a reboot, ya' know!"

"...I wasn't even in the last one." Chief sighed again.

"Didn't get to experience the joy of painting." Bob nodded. "Glad you could join us this time!"

"At least, right?" Chief agreed.

"Look, look, fellas', stop breaking that damned wall! Let's figure something out! How about... How about we see if there's any alien space craft trapped in the ice up north?!"

"Alien... Spacecraft, sir?" Chief raised his head. "The Covenant?"

"Nonono-! None of your diluted fantasies, Chief-! I mean, EXTRATERRESTRIALS! Like, flying saucers! You know?"

"No, I can't say I do, sir."

"...Animated... SIGH..." Voss slouched forwards, fingers wrapping on the table top. "...Welp'! I dunno' about all of you, but I'M off to have some fun!"

Tim chittered from the floor.

"-EXACTLY-! See that? Tim knows the shit's going down!"

"That spider isn't normal, and you communicate with it, sir."

"You expected DIFFERENT?!" Voss gasped. "Heresy!"

"Where are you going?" Chief watched the Champion jump out of his throne and start to round the table behind Bob's own seat- he made for the stairwell they had all entered through.

"I'm off for adventure!"

"Tiniest amount of sap green." Bob raised a brow.

"The drug-addict's right, sir, there isn't very much of that going on nowadays." Chief inclined. "Maybe we should actually consider this 'Vacation' you mentioned a few days ago, sir."

"THAT, was out of disillusioned depression from lack of activity, and overly abundant amounts of self loathing!" Voss cried. "-NOTHING, I said, should be taken to heart! Especially that story of fruit-rollup obsessed guinea pigs!"

"You never said anything about that, sir." Chief pointed out.

"...Forget I said anything! Let's go! C'mon, on your feet!"

"I can see where this is going..."

"We're gonna' need a strong easel." Bob again broke the norm and agreed with the Chief, hushed.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

The fortress that Voss had built his house into wasn't exactly on level ground with the land around it, it was suspended at the tip of the top peak of the mountain that bordered the holds of Winterfell and the Rift- it was surrounded by hundreds of substructures and facilities, interconnected with landing pads and repurposed Dwemer lever-lift technology.

This was the heart of the little fife Voss had set up for himself in Skyrim, it was what allowed him to continue producing automatons and the supplies necessary to keep them all running and working appropriately.

With the automatons and constant stream of logistics, Voss could've been argued against being a threat by all manner of experienced warlords due to his insanity and childish demeanor- but indisputably, Voss was in possession of the greatest mechanized war machine in history.

Voss had never engaged in a full on war with his robotic task forces- nothing LARGE scale, like, over an entire province or something strategically essential like that -he had fought for Riften, which had folded easily, and he had ransacked Whiterun, which also was an easy fight.

Militarily, Voss was not as active- he had the potential to conquer all of the north under one banner if he had so pleased, but, for whatever convoluted reasoning in his mind, he just... never carried through with it.

He supposed if he owned all of Skyrim, that there wouldn't be ANY form of challenge or exploration left, for what few there already was. It was a 'Him' thing, just another example of why he was whacked.

Though whacked or not, Chief, Bob and Tim followed him down every lift, and every stairwell in the spanning fortress of his home, because, well, what ELSE would they do with themselves without the Champion? He was the only one with some grasp of reality in this messed up world.

The roads of Skyrim were easily accessible once at the foot of the superstructure that held the whole southward side of the installation up from its slight protrusion off the rocks of the mountain- there was a giant golden gate, which parted, and saw teams of automated giants stepping aside for the triumphant quad of heroes.

Just like that, a scene that had repeated itself unending for them, they took to the cobbled lane and followed it through the winding, gray, and wintery landscape of Skyrim, birthplace of the Nords, zone of a peculiar fascination to the Champion and Dragonborn.

Quite honestly, if Voss had not been a member of the group- which subsequently would've meant the absence of Tim, because the spider would never go somewhere without Voss -there would have been resounding quiet in the relatively bland travels.

Master Chief hadn't admitted it on the grounds of his own ego, but, with cybernetic enhancements still, he had a splitting headache- life outside of what had been nothing but an endless opportunity for adventure, had been going to a rougher side and he wasn't happy most of the time.

Bob was a similar case of the long and arduous grind, he hadn't sold a painting in months, and had been alone most of the time when he wasn't running around trashing the joint with the Dragonborn- he may not have liked or agreed with Master Chief, but even he understood that things were just drab.

Ever since they had defeated Alduin... THAT, had been the turning point, that was when things started to get slow. Nirn may have been filled with stupid people, in fact, Voss characterized the average human being as a, in quote- 'Mentally unstable chimp in a soiled senior diaper, at the wheel of a beaten pickup truck' -but it fresh out of need for saving.

Voss' dad had tangoed with and defeated everything beforehand, and then, Voss came around and tangoed with and vanquished a whole other set of powers, be they the Daedra, or the Gods, or other people... Where was the- Pi-Zazz! -anymore?

"Lovely weather we're having!" Voss laughed, looking up at the gray and dreadful sky above. "Absolutely fantastic! We should set up a sprinkler and take turns skipping through it!"

"I'll pass, sir." Chief grumbled.

"Big old trees..." Bob wasn't even paying attention.

Tim just chittered.

"Man, you people SUCK!" Voss threw his arms up in the air, his bolt pistol discharged mid-swing- **_CLK!_** -and the pained moan of an abominable beast surged throughout the pine trees, before a nine-foot tall Frost Troll, slumped out and fell face first on the edge of the road from where it had been crouched over, waiting for them to come closer. "-What do I have to do to get you guys INTO this?!"

"Sir, there isn't anything left for us to do, plain and simple. You own Riften, sir, you've destroyed Solitude, sir, you've ransacked every hold in Skyrim, sir, there aren't even any DRAGONS left, sir."

"Disappointing! I will note!" Voss proclaimed. "For all that is gentlemen'ish, and posh- they put up a RESPECTABLE resistance against their impending, unavoidable, DOOM! At the hands of ME!"

"Sir, they've been doomed for almost a year."

"Yeah, and... well... well who in the heck asked you?!"

"You did, sir."

"BUPKISS!" The Dragonborn held a finger aloft. "Hogwash and skullduggary! I REJECT this notion!"

"Just think about a little tree, right up in here..." Bob smiled.

"-I REJECT NATURE!"

If the painter was phased, he didn't show any signs of it.

Tim chittered again.

"Yeah-yeah, Tim, THANKS, so much, for your CONCERN to my mental health... AGAIN!"

 ** _fwhm...wwwmmmmmmmmmmMMMM-!_** -A scream of raging fire, far away, from above, echoing across the pine forested landscape.

Tim chittered secondly.

"Uhm... Sir? Did your robots do that?" Chief stopped in his tracks, looked up.

"Don't question my politics, Tim! THEY'RE FASCISTS! All of them!"

"Alizirin Crimson mixed with... Cadmium Yellow and some..." Bob put a finger to his chin, and deduced finally. "-And some Indian Yellow!"

All of them were noticeably tinted a faint orange from a light source in the sky.

Tim was chittering repeatedly- **_CLUNK!_** -the spider became overexcited enough, that he headbutted into Voss' leg and knocked himself out cold, the spider curled in a ball on the road and was still.

"Take THAT! Tim! HA! That'll show you and your plebian-based assumptions on Democracy!" Voss cackled.

"Sir!"

"WHAAAATTT?! Damn it!"

"Does that asteroid not mean a thing to you, sir?"

"Ass?! WHERE?! Is it a girl's?!"

"No, sir, look up."

"At what?"

"...I can't do this today..." Chief sighed.

"I understand completely! You all, ARE TRYING TO STEAL MY CANDY BARS!" Voss produced a pair of randomly appearing chocolate bars, still wrapped in purple plastic. "-WELL YOU CAN'T HAVE THEM!"

 ** _BMMMMMMKK!_**

 ** _WHMMMmmmmmmm..._**

-A colossal thud, explosion, discharging of thousands of pounds of dislodged soil and rock that fell back to the earth around a great, and fiery impact crater- located perhaps a mile away from where the party currently stood.

Voss jumped in surprise- the candy he held flipped through the air and vanished by the side of the road -he turned around, his fingers clenching for the space just below his chin.

"-WHAT IN THE NAME OF MY SENILE GRANDMA WAS THAT?!"

"I told you, sir, asteroid."

"WHERE-?! ...Naahhh! I'm just joking! I got you though, didn't I?"

"We should investigate it."

"Let's just see what happens." Bob nodded.

-Whatever had fallen from the wintery sky of Skyrim had sailed clean overhead, and had implanted in the middle of a clear field, and left a crater that kicked a plumage of fire almost a story tall- the crater was about the size of a house, and it gave off a large arm of black smog trailing from it.

Rocks and chunks of earth were still falling all over the place, tumbling down the raised flanks of the hole, and the distinct sound of sizzling wood become louder and louder as the heroes hurried off the side of the road, past some trees, towards the site of collision.

"Maybe it's a new Care-Bear toy! And it was so unholy, that even the HEAVENS rejected it!" Voss ranted mid-sprint. "-Or maybe it's hopes and dreams for every new video game franchise in their quests to demoralize gamers, with attention to graphics and NOTHING ELSE! Who knows, right?!"

"Sir-! Look out-!" Master Chief cried.

 ** _CLK!_** -Voss reached up and caught a rock the size of his head right as it was about to slap him upside the skull- he clenched his fingers, and the stone shattered into a million pieces- to which the Dragonborn jabbed his now free finger ahead.

"-NOTHING SHALL STOP OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS! FORWARDS, MY BROTHERS! ATTTAACCKKKK!"

Voss got really into it, could you blame him? There had literally been NOTHING exciting for months, almost a year! Just like Chief had said.

Now out of nowhere, down came this meteorite containing who-knew-what, that smacked into Skyrim and blew up, how could he not be excited?

Yet that excitement, blinded him, figuratively.

Master Chief and Bob knew to quickly halt in their sprints- Voss was too busy screaming at the top of his lungs, to even realize he was running uphill, on the edges of the raised side of the blast crater.

"-TALLY-HO GENTLEMEN! WE RIDE FOR- WOAH-OH SHIIIIIiiiiiiittt..." ... ** _PSH..._** " _...Don't worry!... I'm only moderately injured!..._ " -Now came faintly from within the contents, of said crater.

Master Chief and Bob looked at each other, they both heard chittering from behind, and watched as the yellow and cream form of Tim, scurried right between them, right up the side of the crater wall, where the spider promptly, and silently, threw himself off the edge too, in pursuit of his master.

 ** _...psh..._** -Tim's impact noise was noticeably smaller.

"Sir? Are you alright? Sir!" Chief called frantically, hiking up the raise in the scorched land, with Bob close behind.

-Down below, in the very epicenter of the blackened scar burnt into Skyrim's countryside- the Dragonborn was lying face down, with his armored limbs splayed on either side of him, and he was groaning in discomfort from the tumble.

MERE discomfort, despite rolling down an incline that could've snapped a normal man's neck- it was just an inconvenience for him, after all, it was VOSS in question.

"...Oh my... ACHING head... Wowzers... I certainly was lucky to find a meteorite that has such a soft and... and plushy... and... scaly... surface-Wow, this ain't no asteroid..."

Voss sat up a little more, supported himself upright with his palms into the dirt by his sides- he looked down at a peculiar set of objects, they were rounded, like he had described, plushy, covered in millions of tiny, smooth, blade-shaped scales that strangely looked... familiar...

The Champion hummed in interest, cocked his head and adjusted his miraculously undisturbed tophat with a push of his finger- he reached out, and clenched his gauntlets over these two objects, noted a fleshy ring against the metal.

"Hmmm... INTERESTING... A biological organism I have since NOT documented! Fascinating, dear boy! Fascinating!" He noted in a raspy accented voice, squeezing his fingers- the orbs squished under this duress, and it earned him a pained noise, a squeak, if you will. "-IT LIVES!"

" _...Sir?! Are you alright?!_..." -Came from the edge of the crater, it was Master Chief, looking down over the ledge of the rim at the Dragonborn.

"-Keelo-ONE TWO THREE, is DOWN, but I'm alive, baby!" Voss detached a hand from the objects and gave the Chief a thumbs up. "Holy crap! Guys! Get down here! I think I found two gigantic, freakin'-"

Voss spiraled back around to the two orbs and realized, that, quite plain and simply that there was a... a... a THING, growing out over them, like a... it was... it was moving, now that he noticed it, it was rigid, it was spined and...

...and it was a tail?

Voss blinked rapidly.

He looked up.

An overly-sexualized pose, this was- a matter of brash and unadulterated objectification of women in media, this was...

For after he traced his eyes up a center-spined, curvy and scaly back, past a thin and frail forearm curled around and over the base of said tail- he was greeted with a reptilian face, with two red eyes, and two angular horns sprouting out the back of the skull.

The Draconic expression was one of shock, and awe, and horror- not only at what it had seen on ITSELF, but of WHO had also seen it.

"...I-I found... two gigantic... ALDUINS?" Voss said dramatically. "Wait... NO! I've found... ONE Alduin! Aw-hey! Hey guys! I found an Alduin down here!"

The Dragon's left eye twitched, her jaws opened up and revealed rows of sharp teeth, which were seemingly quivering, as she struggled to form speech to what was happening.

"...V-Voss...? Voss-?!" Alduin sputtered in Common, she hissed in discomfort at the angle she had been observing from. "-W-What are you-?! WHAT ARE YOU TOUCHING?!"

"...Uhm... Oh!" Voss looked down again. "-Master Chief! I was RIGHT! There IS an ass down here! AND IT'S FEMALE! WOOHOO!"

Mortified, the Dragon was now shaking uncontrollably, and the two past foes were left at an impass of silence, and locked eyes.

After another moment, Voss cleared his nose with a good sniff, looked down again, and then back at Alduin, and then down again.

"-Honk-Honk!" He squeezed his fingers twice.

"-GETOFFOFME!-GETOFFMEYOUSICKFREAK!" Alduin screeched, flailing, her tail whipping a storm, her legs kicking with heels bouncing off of Voss' cuirass with metallic thunks.

The Dragon certainly did not look the same like she had when Voss had traveled to the realm of Nordic afterlife to beat her- she wasn't exactly anywhere near as large, she didn't even have wings, and she had arms, with four-digit claws on them, and LEGS, look at those... those big ole' legs...

What the heck had happened?

"-Holy Snorkel Masks! Al'! Is that you?!" Voss gripped the sides of his helmet. "You're back! You're back! And you looked a lot different!... Uhm... Hmm... You get a haircut?"

"-WHEREAMI-?!" Alduin gasped, wrapping her arms over herself, curling her legs up to her stomach. "-WHENISTHIS?!"

"You're back in Skyrim, Al'!"

"-S-SKYRIM?!"

"You're actually alive! This is- THIS IS AWESOME!"

"-A-ALIVE?!"

"Alive Alduin! Alive! Yeah-HAA!"

"-B-B-BUT I- BUT-!"

"Say! You didn't get a haircut, you... AH! I know! You lost weight!"

"-WHATARE-WHATAREYOU-?!" Alduin looked down at herself, and her mouth flapped open like a fish's would upon being removed from water. "-OHMY-OHMYGODS... W-WHAT... WHATDIDYOUDOTOME?! WHATDIDYOU-?!"

"Who else saw THIS shit incoming, eh? Eh?" Voss jabbed his thumb at her. "-Alduin, calm down, would you? I don't have a foggy clue about what's happening either! Me and my pals just saw you fall out of the sky!"

Alduin looked back at him, and then she looked down at herself again.

She looked... Humanoid...

By the Gods as her witness... What had that- that THING, up there, beyond existence, beyond reality, beyond Oblivion and the realms of the Aedra- what had that thing DONE to her?!

And what were- and what the hell were THESE?! What was the point of giving her THESE?!

She reached up, and cupped the mass of two peculiar glands that were now protruding from her chest.

"-Oh MAN!" Voss leant forwards. "-T-They gave you-!"

"V-Voss-! Voss, y-you shut your mouth! VOSS!" Alduin stuttered.

"THEY GAVE YOU-!" -A deep inhale. "-BOOBIES!"

Well, Voss certainly could deduce a description for today, not that he had the attention span to note it.

Awesome just couldn't describe this.

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-


	4. Chapter 4

**_I don't know why, but this story is just so fun for me to write! Lol- I just wish I could write it more frequently, it's just hard for me since my cat died, and I've been working like a madman on my fantasy novel, it's up to 40,000 words now, so I'm making progress. Hopefully I can kind of get back the same kind of following this story had when I had first published it._**

 ** _Gimme' a follow on Twitter, I post a Tweet with every new chapter and story._**

 ** _Have an awesome-sauce day_**

 ** _~Don_**

 ** _AWESOME JUST CAN'T DESCRIBE_**

 ** _CHAPTER 4_**

 ** _ADDITIONS._**

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

When the world has still been young, and underdeveloped, and raw in its bare molding of energy and molten rock, when the earth was still cooling from the singes of creation, and humankind was struggling to wrest dominance from the elves, she had been dormant, repressed, if you will, caught in the abnormalities of time and space.

Alduin had earned herself the title of 'World Eater' several thousand years ago, but she was not per-say several thousand years old- in fact, Alduin didn't really even know her own age, and that was because the Nords had tossed her into a sort of time loop to prevent her from enacting what she had tried to enact.

Her desire to destroy Nirn and to repurpose the raw energy was born out of her spite, her anger, her malice at her own species being driven to extinction by man and mer, Skyrim, the under-populated crag in the earth that it was, was merely a stepping stone on the staircase to her ascension.

Her genocidal intents were both horrific, grand in their scale, but also a source of self degradation for the dragon, it wasn't like she had been born into this world WANTING from the get-go to exterminate races of smaller humanoids.

Granted, she was not alive during the ages of the Great Drakes, when draconic overlords ruled over the Nordic peoples, she had not been created until the fringing and dying breaths of that state of the dragon peoples... She had never known what it felt like to truly dominate an entire country.

So, she was always, in the back of her mind, a bit resentful for those that she had originally aspired to avenge and honor- the Great Drakes had caused a severing between the Nordic and Elven peoples for an untold amount of years, and they were tyrants, and dictators, and rulers of perverted and black cults that poisoned their own minds and the minds of their slave armies.

Alduin did not aspire to them, they were merely scapegoats to earn the loyalty of her draconic kin- the fearsome bull Relmithsahvaas, leader of the Nordic armies to the northern ice caps, or the ravaging destroyer Agkriial, the overseer and punisher of mortal revolts -did not speak to what she had hoped to make out of her invasion of Skyrim.

Alduin wanted to destroy man and mer and to use the raw energy of Nirn, for however much of it she could tear off and recycle- to forge a better place of existence for all dragon kind, to improve the existence of all dovah, it was just a beautiful vision to her, and she resonated with it because of how angry she was at the human race.

Who could blame her? Nords had persecuted her kind, it was the human way, to destroy things that they didn't understand, it was why the Draconic Wars had happened, why Nords had become a literal client species beneath the dovah.

Again, while Alduin did not stem from THAT, she stemmed from the generations that lived in squalor after the humans had earned their independence, and had resumed their genocide of dragons with gusto.

Alduin had crept through the shadows of the north, of Cyrodiil all the way to Hammerfell for most of her younger life, but when she uncovered the keys to leadership, and found she had an ability to muster the forgotten and secluded enclaves of her kind, she took the opportunity to wage war against Nirn, and that was where powerful Nordic heroes entrapped her, and banished her to a time flux.

She had emerged back into the lands of Tamriel expecting people to still be weak, and reliant upon the empire weaving of her kind, but, over the years since the deposing of the draconic overlords, the world had changed, and both man and mer had cultivated their own empires and technology, and dragons were no longer anything but really powerful beasts to be pacified with massed weapons and brutality.

Though, with such knowledge, truthful knowledge of the all the facts between the terrible relations of the dovahs and mortals, as one could never blame Alduin for the reasoning behind her fighting- one could never blame humans for reacting the way they did to her presence.

No one, not a single soul in the conflict, was 'Right' or a good guy or bad guy, it was just a screwed up situation where one group of peoples tried to conjure ever more cruel ways of suppressing the other, dragons and humans- particularly the Nords -were both just as guilty in their participation.

Granted, when Alduin had found the strength to break herself free of the time flux, the first thing she did was initiate a bit of- 'Target Practice' -when she had discovered herself emerging into the very place she had harbored and spawned such hatred from.

Skyrim was a land that had seen much, much, MUCH better days by the time the World Eater returned to enact her destiny, and to become a savior of the dovah- there was civil war ravaging the land, there was famine, abundant monstrous influence across the countryside, brigands were rampant, and the Empire was crumbling, Cyrodiilic influence waning, the Deadra were growing powerful.

Her attack on Helgen was the epitome of her cocky excitement of being able to fly again, to feel wind against her armored skin, to soar in the heavens and strike fear and awe into everything that laid eyes upon her.

If Alduin had known just WHO in the hell would happen to be down there in Helgen, she would of at least brought help, if she had not avoided the fort altogether.

The Champion of Nirn, they called him, a mighty warrior who had been undefeatable in a myriad of quests against the Daedra, the Empire, the Aldmeri, the Gods themselves- who was epic, and set on a paragon path for heroism.

Alduin expected such an appearance from the man too, and, oh, how foolish of her the whole thing was...

"-HOLY SHIT BALLS! A winged iguana!"

-There was practically the sound of screeching brakes in the air after she heard that, in fact, she remembered it clear as day, her mouth was half-opened, head reclined back, flame broiling in the back of her throat- she stopped mid-process of jetting fire onto a building.

Ignoring a small cluster of arrows that bounced off of her reflective, impenetrable iron hide- she lumbered around, and bowed to street level to view a man, a human man, running around in his undergarments, with a strange, mechanical blade that she had never seen anything like before.

"Hiya'!" Voss had waved at her- WAVED, like a little boy, the whole thing was damned horrendous -he honestly had no clue who she was, and it actually frightened her, HE frightened her. "-I hate to trouble you, madame'!" -He had to call out to her through the broiling flame, screams of Imperial soldiers. "-But have you seen a suit of black armor? With gold trims? And a silver helmet? -Ohoh, and with, with a tophat? Anywhere? Possibly?"

Alduin blinked rapidly, her jaws clapped shut, and she glanced around Helgen's burning exterior, actually feeling a sense of something being outlandishly wrong with the air itself- she noticed a few Imperials had stopped draining their arrow reserves uselessly, and were watching this exchange with terrified expressions.

Today had been the day that Alduin not only discovered a sort of strange intrigue, but also that there was another living being besides herself in Skyrim, that completely was outside the boundaries of the average Joe's understanding and comprehension.

That being, that anomaly, was named Voss, and Voss, in all his half-naked glory, covered in Imperial blood, with a noticeable mass in his undergarments from where he had stuffed them full of gold coins and trinkets he had nabbed off of corpses, was standing before her, the World Eater, asking... for...

-Directions.

He met the villain of Nirn, the destroyer of worlds, and... all he wanted were directions.

...Just... What?

"Who- ARE you?" Alduin reclined her head in offense from the man's mere presence.

"-Name's Voss, baby! Crusader of awesomeness! WARRIOR OF UNPARRALELED JUSTICE! You might have heard of me, you know, in some of the paragon tales and shit..."

"...WHAT are you?" More arrows bounced off her left flank, she ignored them, crimson eyes remaining locked on the little human before her.

"...Uhhhmm... You forget your glasses or something?" Voss held his arms and chainsword up. "-Ooo! Did you smoke something?! CAN I HAVE IT TOO?!"

Alduin cocked her head in horror.

What in the hell was happening? Who talked like that?

Her mere arrival must have driven the poor lad mad.

A crazy, that's all he was.

Alduin actually surprised herself too that day, she gave off a sound of offense that she had never made before, it was almost like a- 'Harumph!' -and then she spun around, and her tail lashed out, clapped into Voss' ribs, and sent the man flying several feet away.

 ** _CRASSSHHHK!_** -He vanished into the hay roof of a nearby farmhouse, leaving a sizable gash in the material, and a cloud of dust and kicked fragments of wood.

Alduin smiled, and moved westward to promptly bathe a nearby tower with flame out of agitation from all the arrows shooting out of it. She stuck her mouth by one of the murder slots, conjured the magical energy within her breast, and blasted out the whole interior of the stone structure.

A thin jet of blue flame entered the window, and the whole tower was alight as the magical fire, starved of oxygen, spread throughout the floors and shot out every other window, the ground floor door, and a trap door on the roof, it was like a hundred firecrackers all over.

She reclined from the building, supporting herself in a stance on all fours to the ground again, she rolled her shoulders, flexed the wings her front arms morphed into.

"NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER, BITCH!"

 ** _sscckWSIIH!_** -A terrible and sharp pain ate into her rear leg, and she bellowed out a reverberating, reptilian cry, she moved away in an instant, and noticed the same little human standing there, with his chainsaw now stained rich crimson with draconic blood.

"Bring it on! Unholy SWINE!" He called to her in a raspy voice. "Time for a new snake-skin pair of boots!"

Alduin didn't even humor a response- she opened her mouth, and a jet of primordial fire, capable of melting titanium, shot from the back of her throat and bathed the earth where the man had been standing.

It was a blinding cone of flickering flame that was blue at its zenith of origin, and then spanned for white and orange as it burned a blackened road into the ground, and made the brick base of a nearby house glow like molten rock, the wood ignited and collapsed in black, dusty clouds.

Alduin clapped her jaws shut, she hobbled backwards on her one wounded leg, cast a glance back to it and saw a trench had been dug into her thigh, clean through her supposedly 'Impenetrable' scaly hide. What kind of weapon was this deranged monkey using?

"-HaHA!" She looked up, and, standing atop the burning roof of the tower she had just incinerated was... the same man she had just fried. "You missed! NAH-NAH-nanana!"

Alduin glanced at the cindering scorch mark she'd left in front of her.

No charred body?

And- how the hell did that little rodent get all the way up there?!

"I FIGHT FOR DEMOCRACY!" Voss spread his arms, and then leaped clean off the top point of one of the tower's merlons. "-FLY EAGLE OF TRUTH! FLYYYYYYYY-!"

The dragon felt a weight clap onto and grip the back of her neck like a vice, and she opened her jaws and cursed loudly in dovahzuul to this transgression, this, violation, to her royal person.

"-Ofaal VAU do zey! HI SERK!"

"WEEEEEEEEEEE! IT'S LIKE A MESSED-" -Voss was tossed left. "-UUPPP-!" -He was swung right. "-MERRY-GO-ROUND-!" -Three heaves up and down as Alduin shook herself vehemently, his legs flapping in the air behind him.

"-UNHAND ME! Mortal scum!"

"Guilty as charged!" -Came gleefully from behind her. "TASTE THE TEETH OF MY AWESOMENESS, FOUL BEAST!"

The chainsword revved a few times- Alduin felt a sudden flare of an emotion she hadn't felt since her entrapment in the time loop -fear, and she redoubled her efforts to get the Champion off of her.

The dragon swung her neck around, tossed her shoulders, whipped her tail- while certainly it forced Voss to focus on holding onto her, it also produced a rather curious site when beheld from a distance, this man being thrown about, going 'Weeeeee!' while it happened, with an angry, cursing, spitting dragon paying the price for his deranged entertainment.

 ** _PLSSKK!bBmmmMMMM..._** She planted the back of her neck into the still burning tower nearby, the one Voss had leapt from- there was a crunch of breaking stone, the clambering of falling brick, Alduin surged away from it, unwrapping her body from the tower's structure, leaving a dissipated trail of dust to still connect her in her wake.

In the center of this broken crater made in the shape of an oval- Voss was buried in a pile of bricks that had been catapulted to the tower's burning interior, his bare feet were humorously the only things she could see sticking from the mound within.

She snorted steam out of her nostrils, and glanced down at her mauled leg again.

 ** _Pmk!_** -A brick the size of a man's torso thwacked hollowly off the tip of her snout, she barked loudly, reeled back and gripped a sizable welt on her nose with the tip claspers of her right wing.

"-You don't play nice!" Voss reprimanded, now standing ATOP the mound he had been stuck in, thoroughly stained with dirt and mud from how much he had been thrown around, shockingly though, he lacked any visible injury. "You know just because I have a hairy belly button, doesn't mean I'm a gruff and emotionally disturbed hick! SO TAKE THAT! JUDGER!"

"What ARE you?!" Alduin cried, raising her wings, spreading them by her flanks- trying to appear as large and imposing as possible. "-Do you even know WHOM you are attempting to do battle with?"

"...Uuuuhhhhhhhmmmm... Uhhhhhhh..." Voss lowered his arms, let his jaw go slack. "...Uhhhh-Hold on, gimme' a sec-uuhhhhhhhhhhh..."

"...My name, is AL-!"

"-HOLD ON, gimme' a sec-uhhhhhhhhhhh..."

"...My name... IS, ALD-!"

"-WAIT! Nope! Blahblahblah! I'M NOT LISTENING!"

"...By the Divine's- what is WRONG with you?!" Alduin narrowed her eyes. "-You don't even understand what you are involving yourself in!"

"...Uuuhhhhhhh... Your name... IS," Voss held a finger aloft. "-Godzilla!"

"...No." Alduin growled, lowering her wings. Weren't they supposed to be viciously dueling each other?

"...Uhhhhhhhh- SPYRO!"

Alduin opened her jaws and rammed her head forwards.

 ** _ffWWWHHHHHMMM!_** -She shot out a concentrated stream of ice into the interior of the tower, leaving a surrounding rim of reflective cold on the broken bricks of the hole she had made.

She lowered her chin and peaked into the breach with one eye- saw the mounds of debris, coated in ice, the interior, coated in ice, all the fires extinguished... but... no corpse-

"-Your name's Draco!"

Alduin went wide eyed, spun around and saw Voss standing by her left wing, back on ground level.

She raised a rear foot, and brought it down on where he stood.

 ** _PFFF!_** -A pock of dust around her heel and tows. She lifted her foot. No bloody print.

"-Now hold on, I'm trying to think of other mainstream media dragons..." Voss stepped out of a crumbling archway of a farmhouse behind the tower, his fingers to his chin. "-King Ghidorah!"

Alduin lowered her head, and narrowed her eyes at him.

"...NO." She snarled. "-NO, none of those names, you insolent little firok!"

"I ain't a bastard-! Well, uh," Voss scratched the back of his head. "-Alright yeah, you got me there."

"I am Al-Du-Iin! Destroyer of worlds! And I have returned to burn Nirn and Skyrim to the ground!"

"You know, you seem, like a really angry person, Al'..." Voss first coined that name, that STUPID name that he always called her, that she hated. "...Are you constipated? GAASSSPPP! -I know! We could go on a quest to find you an enema!"

" ** _FUS RO DAH!_** "

-A burst of magically dispersed air, and Voss was haphazardly tossed back into the farmhouse he had emerged from.

Having toppled over a kitchen table, and completely through a wood wall and subsequent shelf beyond it- it took Voss long enough to unbury himself from the debris, that all he heard was the flapping of large, reptilian wings by the time he jogged back out the doorframe.

"-NOBODY magically belches at me and lives!" Voss shook his fist in air. "...Oh, it's ON, drago-woman! It's on! I'm a man on the edge! I, WILL, be victorious! GRAAAAHHHHHHH!"

-The Dragonborn lowered his arms after a minute of screaming to the now empty skies above, and then he reached down and picked up a gray bra he had found in the contents of the house, before placing it in an angled lean over the cranium of his head.

"-I'm all set! OFF TO FIND MY GEAR! OFF FOR ADVENTURE!"

* * *

-0-0-0-0-0-

You know, Voss had seen some really weird stuff in his travels, besides his own behavior, which, for the life of him he couldn't understand how it was so offsetting for people, but, besides the point, he digressed...

-He'd seen monsters and creatures that were just God-awful, and not even classified in any kind of section of scientific or scholarly understanding- he'd seen magic spells and magical effects of similar standing, places too, evil places, wonderful places... Tamriel had been his oyster, alright.

But, that fateful day of meeting Alduin, the 'Destroyer of Worlds' the doom of Nirn, and the holder of all those other terrible titles... He just felt it 'Click' if you will, like he had finally found the key to his life, and the lock with which to unlock it with.

All this time he had been wandering around, alone, taming the vast mysteries and evils of Skyrim, forming friendships with people, hatreds with others (the latter of which were short lived, as were the people they originated with) -he had come to understand the landscape here, and afar too, and it was amazing knowledge to behold.

But Voss was always so empty, not over his dad, surely, his father had lived a good life, raised his kid good, even if he was a crazed goon, the old man would have been prouder than ever- he had stopped the Oblivion Crisis, got Voss junior up and running, and then, well, he just died one day.

It was pretty sudden, one day Voss just woke up, and his father was gone, it was nothing drawn out, nothing long and arduous, there was no final gasping speech from the dying man in his arms, or, nothing like that... Voss just went to see him, and he wasn't there anymore.

Voss was a careless, crazy guy- you could obviously deduce that easily -he didn't frown a lot, like, FROWN, frown, he frowned sometimes, but, never so... Passionately like that.

It took a few days, but Voss had come to accept it as part of his evolving life, the stripping away of things he had started with for things new- so he took to the challenge that Alduin and her dragons had presented with an eagerness, it was how he met Bob, and Chief, and how he gathered most of his robots.

Sure there were moments in his adventure that were hard, and perilous, journeying to the damned afterlife certainly was one of those times... And... 'Killing' Alduin, was another.

See that's where this all got weird.

-Of course, WEIRDER, than it had already been. This was already a whacked out conspiracy shitshow enough.

They were supposed to be enemies, they were supposed to be working against each other's life efforts, and... well, they were reluctant to do so. Voss kind of knew why, he liked to think Alduin did too, they never outwardly and directly said anything of their suspicions, and, by the time either thought of a more peaceful resolution, it was too late.

It bothered Voss, as said, there weren't many things that could actually effect him in a negative way, but he got the same feeling he had received when his father died. It was just a hole, but this one was bigger. It got better after a few days, and, it was almost nonexistent in the following weeks and then months... but Alduin flashed into his mind sometimes, he remembered the wounds they had inflicted on each other, and the things they had said, and it felt terrible.

So, all this time later, even though Voss didn't have a bloody clue as to what was happening, and as to WHY Alduin, subject of his long lost- now rediscovered -internal turmoil, had fallen from the sky as a flaming ball of death and destruction, he had to admit, that his heart felt lighter.

Everything in his life was a joke, he knew that, but this... No, not so much, he was genuinely excited about this.

It was too bad Alduin herself, really didn't seem as enthusiastic over this unnatural shift in events.

They were still in the big blast crater she had made upon the conclusion of her fiery descent- which, she claimed, she did not remember at all, nor, what had transpired after all this time since Voss had beaten her in Sovngarde.

"You're okay-ka-zay, Al'?"

"No." She grunted the same answer to every question he asked her.

"How'd you survive plummeting thousands of stories from the heavens? While on FIRE too?! That was so COOL!"

"No."

"...O-Kay, uhm... How come you're hot?"

"...mmmmMMMMMmmmm..." Alduin bowed her head between her knees, in a fetal position before him, growling in dismay, her tail was working up a storm. "...That THING did this to me..."

"A thing? You mean- THE Thing?!" Voss gasped. "-I knew it! The universes are converging!"

"...No, you- you IDIOT!" Alduin barked, sitting up straighter, glaring at him with angry eyes. "-Beyond the Aedra!"

"...Beyond the Aedra? You mean, there's a whole other world waiting to pilfered beyond it?!"

"...I don't know..." Alduin deflated again. "-I don't even know... All I know is that you cut me, in Sovngarde, and then, I... I woke up somewhere else..."

"You were on LCD weren't you?"

"L... C... What?"

"Never mind, just yanking your chain, Al'!"

"Don't CALL me that."

"What? Al'? Why not, Al'?"

"...I hate you." She glared long and hard at him. "You have been, and always will be, the BANE of my existence, Voss..."

"Awwwwww, gee' wiz', I love you too, Al'!"

"DON'T, touch me... Don't touch me." Alduin angled away when Voss opened his arms and started surging towards her. He reclined with an expression of insult beneath his helmet.

"Is this about the butt thing again?"

"...YES, yes it is about the BUTT thing, you stupid idiot..."

"It's not like I KNEW it was your butt anyway! I'm a hip guy! Got to respect the ladies, Al'!"

"Go die, please."

"Nope! Still got a while before that!" Voss looked up at the edge of the crater, where Master Chief and Bob were sitting on the edge of the blackened soil, watching the exchange without real knowledge on what to say or do. "-Guys, don't worry, she's chill!"

Alduin raised her head slightly, and looked up at Chief and Bob, sneering while she did it- she remembered THEM, they were almost as bad as Voss was, running around with him like that, helping him in his deranged quest to stop her, which, they had aided his success in.

She heard a chittering noise, organic, wet sounding- she saw a yellow arachnid, a lot smaller than an average Frostbite spider in Skyrim, peering a set of its black, shiny eyes over from behind Voss' boot, the creature's stare... Disturbed her.

"...What... IS that?" She grumbled.

"Oh! That's Tim! Say hi to Al', Tim!" -The spider zipped back to cover behind his armored leg. "-He's just shy, don't mind him."

"Stop calling me that..."

"Nonono, YOU'RE not Tim, HE'S Tim! C'mon Al', keep up!"

"-No I wasn't- STOP calling ME, Al'! Just stop it!"

"So who sent you down the sky-mail, Al'?"

"...Ughhh..." She clenched her elongated face with her new claws, she felt like crying, first time for that feeling in a long while. "...I don't know what it was... They wouldn't let me back into the time flux..."

"You mean that space mumbo-jumbo-crapo' that the dumbasses of the snow-land trapped you in?"

"...The same."

"So they sent you back?"

"...It appears so."

"Best day, EVVAAA'!" Voss clapped his gauntlets together. "-I'll have to find out who this guy is and send him a Christmas card!"

"...A... What?"

"-Fellas'! We FOUND our adventure! AND we got Al' back!"

"This is a good thing, sir?" Chief spoke down to the crater's heart. "She's responsible for trying to destroy the world."

"Got in trouble for playing with fire when I was a boy." Bob nodded, agreeing.

"Well maybe if our world didn't suck so much ass she wouldn't have had a reason to try and blow it up!" Voss laughed. "-C'mon, Al'! I'm off to show you- THE WORLD! That suckith', assith'!"

"-Now wait just a minute, Dovahkiin," Alduin snapped. "-I am NOT, leaving this crater, do you hear me? I will not- WHOOP-!"

Voss had the angry dragon over his left shoulder in an instant, he kept an arm over her back, and pointed his finger to the air dramatically.

"I HAVE THE PRINCESS! We march for Rome! TO WAR WITH MICRO-PIGLETS! CHAAARGGGEE!"

"-Let GO of me! Let me go-! VOSS-!"

-Alduin's rants, and curses heaped upon his filthy, misbegotten soul started to increase in volume, and then became fainter as Voss scaled the opposite side of the crater, and ran off into the hilly distance, his finger raised, with nonsensical anti-piglet racial slurs leaving him loudly.

The Master Chief, standing to his full height, sighed at the presentation laid before him- and then looked up at the sky, now devoid of any signs of an asteroid falling from above and implanting into the ground, though, there were still some thin pillars of smoke dribbling about.

"This is a very, COLD, painting?" Bob raised a brow, still sitting on the raised exterior edge of the crater.

"Something isn't right about this." Chief muttered. "The captain's blind to a coming threat, I just know it."

"No military allowed in my paintings." Bob suggested dangerously.

"You wouldn't do something even if it meant saving our commanding officer?"

"...Clean it all up with a bulldozer."

"..." Chief turned and looked at the painter for a really long time, and then, he shakily sighed, and started trotting along the diameter of the crater's flank. "...I'm going to Outpost 8."

"Happy little clouds? BIG ole' tree, right here?" Bob stood up.

"They probably HAVE sent a reading on what beamed that dragon back here," Chief said over his shoulder. "The captain's not checking, I want to see it myself."

"A misty area, right in here."

"He put that station up there to watch for events exactly like this, and he isn't even using it."

"I like, OLD things?"

"This is the quest we've all been searching for," Master Chief noted. "Are you in?"

"Just let it graze across the mountain!"

"You'll come with me, Tim, watch Voss, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid... Moreover than usual- Tim?... Tim?"

Master Chief spiraled around, and Bob just looked down at their boots, smiling.

No Tim, probably ran off after the Dragonborn.

"Let's go, Bob."

"Time to make a decision, where's your snow live."

* * *

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